


Repeat After Me

by eledhiel13, Rochnariel



Series: Sign Your Life Away [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College AU, Foster Care, M/M, Pre-Slash, Single Parent AU, and some slash that has not yet come to pass, being violently tossed into the deep end of the parenting pool, i couldn't figure out what modern au to write, like the slowest of slow burns, slash that is, slash that was, so here have all of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 16:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 203,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9830243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eledhiel13/pseuds/eledhiel13, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochnariel/pseuds/Rochnariel
Summary: Jack did not sign up for this fatherhood thing.





	1. old man yells at alarm clock

**Author's Note:**

> Guess what fandom we live in now.

Mornings suck.

 

There are no two ways about it. Nothing improves getting jolted out of a deep sleep by the ear-splitting screech of an alarm at the hellish hour of 6 am, feeling like your eyelids are made out of sandpaper. There is an eternal darkness of the soul that comes in the pre-coffee era, and Jack Morrison is currently king of it.

 

He slams his hand down on the clock like it’s a judgement day gavel and nearly swats it through the window. Somehow that doesn’t stop its ungodly shriek so Jack growls and shoves off his threadbare covers. He gropes for the offending object and yanks it so hard he rips the power cord out of the wall.

 

Then Jack curses out whoever conceived of battery backups as he smashes the blurry buttons at random. Anything to get this instrument of torture to stop beeping. He’s _up_ already, damn it.

 

Finally he must hit the right button because the alarm falls silent. Jack scrubs a hand down his face as he waits for his ears to stop ringing, then fumbles over the rickety nightstand for his glasses case. It’s not that Jack doesn’t love his job, he reminds himself. He gets a great sense of satisfaction from dispensing medical aid to the day’s assortment of public in need. But it’s hard to remember that on the third day in a row of 12 hour shifts. He’s not a young man anymore.

 

And if they get one more call today to be a glorified chauffeur service for a sprained ankle, Jack might not hold himself responsible for his actions.

 

He stumbles out to his tiny kitchen, making straight for the coffee pot. Yanks open the fridge, discovers its barren contents haven’t miraculously multiplied into a bounty overnight. Grabs a packet of pop-tarts instead and is halfway to his closet for his uniform before the continued silence hits him. He turns back to the coffee pot.

 

Broken. Figures.

 

Jack adjusts his thick black frames to better glare the offending machine into obedience. When that doesn’t work he tries tapping it, unplugging it and plugging it back in. His Hail Mary is to give it hard shake, but instead of starting the soothing sounds of percolation the thing just rattles ominously and all of its lights go dark.

 

The alarm clock starts wailing from the bedroom again.

 

Jack braces his hands on the counter and takes a long deep breath. Then he marches back into the bedroom and punts the damn thing into the closet.

 

Needless to say, he leaves his one bedroom walk-up to greet the day in a less than stellar mood. And hey, misery loves company, right? He grunts at his partner when he arrives at the deployment bay, shitty gas station coffee in hand. But Zenyatta is annoyingly unfazed, as usual.

 

“And a pleasant morning to you as well, Morrison,” he inclines his head, handing Jack the ambulance stock checklist.

 

“If you say so,” Jack growls, reaching to double check the level of bandages. Before he is halfway through the count, their first call comes in. Two cases of food poisoning and a call for a stubbed toe later, Jack concludes his day is not looking up. His phone buzzes once while he’s eating his lunch so he thumbs the cheap flip phone open.

 

> Amari A. >> we’re on still for coffee saturday y/n

 

He sets it back down. It buzzes again.

 

> Amari A. >> y/n requires you say yes

 

Jack rolls his eyes and slowly thumbs out ‘yes ana’. The reply is quick.

 

> Amari A. >> i thought so :)

 

The next call is much more intense, requiring support from the accompanying fire engine. Jack waits for Bastion to pry the roof off the crunched car before sliding into action with Zenyatta. The cheerful man gives him a wave as he finishes rolling back the roof. It’s one of those moments where the oddest thoughts occur at inopportune times; he’s asking their patient rapid fire questions as he wonders why he only sees Bastion out on calls. The man lives in his apartment building after all.

 

Two more such calls topped off by one for that wonderful sprained ankle later and Jack is finally free to limp his way home. He stomps up the narrow staircase and stops as he approaches his door. Faintly, through the thin walls like the echo of some malicious spirit, he can hear beeping.

 

Jack contemplates turning around and leaving the alarm clock to its victorious conquest of his apartment, but the idea of going anywhere or seeing anyone is overwhelmingly draining. He squares his shoulders, draws on the resolve he relied on back in his special forces days, and charges all the way into the closet. He rips the batteries out and relishes his victory in the most pitiful battle of his life. Then he tosses his glasses in the nightstand’s direction and drops face first onto the bed. Dinner is a thing that happens to other people. He doesn’t intend to move for the next twenty four hours if he can help it. Provided the actual ghost of his alarm clock doesn’t strike again.

 

He knows, having satisfied Ana, that he won’t be interrupted by anything else. He stubbornly squashes the thought of what she’ll have to say about that, involving words like ‘disaster’ and ‘get your shit together, Jack, how many years has it been now?’ Hell, he had a better social life back when he was part of a top secret covert ops unit. He used to know how to socialize.

 

But those days are long past, blown to hell with one bad op and taking all the plans he’d had for his future with them. Now he carries on as best he can, trying to at least be a positive force in the world. He hopes one day it will be enough for him to feel like he’s breaking even on life.

 

He closes his eyes to block out the blurry sight of his empty apartment and drifts into a troubled sleep.


	2. household circus animals, wannabe ninjas, business as usual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have led with this last chapter but this fic comes with a language warning, meaning a) strong language ahoy but mostly b) rampant google translate errors.

Across town, Gabriel Reyes is the eye of his own personal hurricane. As usual.

The doorbell rings, sending Peacekeeper running for the door. He jumps up against the door again and again as Gabe turns and thunders, “Jesse! Control your hound!”

Jesse skids through to the entry way, bowling over the large lean dog in a full body tackle and getting a face full of slobbery tongue for his trouble. “What’s the matter, Pops? Can’t handle takin’ down one friendly dog?” Jesse gives him a rakish grin as Peacekeeper turns the tables and rolls him over to lick his ear. 

“Increíble,” Gabe mutters. “Just get him out of here. And get yourself out with him, it’s business.”

Jesse levers himself to his feet, putting a hand on the dog’s neck to guide him towards the back of the house. “Okay, we know when we ain’t wanted,” he laughs. “C’mon, Keep.”

It’s Amélie at the door, Gabe can see the top of her high ponytail through the glass. Her disdain for the dog is well known, part and parcel of her disdain for animals in general. She’s not going to like his newest plan, he thinks. Gabe’s pretty sure he’s going to regret it too but he’s committed to the idea. She might start making him meet her somewhere cliché and posh, like some godawful coffee shop. It would at least be quieter.

Right on cue, a shriek echoes from the back the house. It’s immediately followed by two sets of laughter and a flurry of barking and Gabe sighs. He saves his latest post and goes for the door, leaving the kids to their own devices. Sombra starts cursing Jesse out in Spanish, complaining about disgusting slobber while Genji encourages the dog through his cackles. Gabe has no idea when he even came over. He never saw him come in through the door—not that doors are Genji’s preferred method of entry.

Amélie smirks at the look on his face when he gets the door open. Maybe a coffee shop isn’t a terrible idea after all. “Don’t even start,” he says as he waves her into the den.

“I would not dream of it,” she murmurs, settling herself elegantly on the desk chair and straightening her pencil skirt. He shuffles through some of his notes and cuts straight to the chase, giving her his report from his home visit yesterday for their shared case. She makes her own notes and does a fantastic job of pretending the back half of the house isn’t a three ring circus. Some days Gabe wonders how this became his life.

Amélie hands him some paperwork for their newest case’s trial proceedings as she makes her exit, tossing a nonchalant wave over her shoulder. Peacekeeper rushes back in the minute the door closes and shoves his head into the sidelight window to watch her go. Gabe steps over him.

He sticks his head into the living room. “Alright, gamberros, I’m heading out. This house had better still be standing when I get back.”

Jesse gives him a thumbs up from the floor as Peacekeeper charges back in and flops on top of him. Sombra rolls her eyes, gives him a halfhearted, “Si, si,” as she uses her outstretched foot to keep the dog away from her. Genji gives him a cheerful wave and pounces on top of the dog to incite a wrestling match. Gabe leaves them to it. Part of him cannot wait for school to start next week, although this year it’s bittersweet. Jesse starts his first year at UCLA—the first time he’ll be out of the house on the regular since he came to LA and into Gabe’s life.

Gabe frowns to himself as he loads his supplies into his station wagon. He knows it’ll be hard; Jesse is the one thing that kept him sane when his life and career blew up in his face six years ago. Pretending to be a stable adult had taken a monumental effort after everything he’d worked for had shattered around him. Without that driving goal, that need to keep Jesse from being sent back to a bleaker future in New Mexico, Gabe isn’t sure where he’d be today. He just knows it would be nowhere good.

He knows he still isn’t all right, despite somehow managing to keep the loudest circus in Pasadena in check. Sometimes the bitterness overwhelms him, making it a struggle to get out of bed with a black mood fogging his brain all day. Sleep can too easily be a pipe dream. The betrayal still cuts through his chest as if it were yesterday that his entire team turned their backs on him. If he ever sees anyone from his old unit again, he knows fireworks will be the least of it. And he can’t bring himself to care.

So much for the past. Gabe forces himself to relax his grip on the steering wheel before he breaks it. Moving forward is the best and only option. And if part of that is letting Jesse grow up and move out, so be it. He puts the car in gear and that maxim into practice. 

His docket for the day includes two more home visits (one goes perfectly, the second is a disaster) and surviving yet another soul sucking meeting before he’s free. Plenty of time to put his plan into action and pay some special attention to the newest addition to their household.

Sombra’s placement has been final for less than a year; she’s still in the testing her boundaries phase. Gabe’s thankful that she at least condescends to speak English now and again these days. One of her favorite subjects to harp on is the unfairness of the household distribution. If Jesse can have a dog, why can’t she have a pet too? Gabe is almost one hundred percent certain she’s just doing it to poke at his patience and likely doesn’t know what to do with an actual animal. 

That’s why he’s going with a cat to surprise her. Much easier to take care of.

He breezes through the local PetSmart and grabs everything the internet tells him is necessary—and then some. He then heads to the Pasadena Humane Society and stumbles across a glass display unit with a pack of kittens romping around. He pauses to watch them play in a jumble of colors and yowls, until a fuzzy black one with long gangly legs winds up and pounces on the whole lot of them. Then he tries chasing each one that scatters, tripping himself as he flops back and forth. Gabe chuckles. That’s the one, busy being a little shit to his siblings. Should fit right in at the house. 

He hands over the paperwork and a check in exchange for an armful of fur. The kitten looks him in the eye and reaches one long arm out to poke him in the nose as if to say, ‘Yes, this is mine now.’

The house is blessedly quiet when he comes through the door. Jesse and Genji must have taken Peacekeeper out to try teaching him some more agility skills, cramming in as much as they can before Jesse leaves. Gabe leans around the door frame and sees Sombra curled up on the couch with her bright purple laptop. He knows better than to ask what’s she doing, but it seems like she hasn’t yet noticed him or his burden. 

Perfect.

He ghosts up alongside her, plucks the computer from her lap and gently drops the purring fur ball in its place. 

She stares at it. Then looks up and stares at him. He shrugs. “You said you wanted a pet.” She blinks. Stares at the cat again who’s now opening his eyes and yawning wide. He stretches his colt-like legs out to knead at her arm, apparently deciding he approves of his newest location. “He’s your responsibility now,” Gabe says and heads back out of the room. 

He’s almost to the door when he hears her murmur, “Gracias, Gabe.” He waits until he’s out in the hall to smile.

Then he hollers back over his shoulder, “Now get out here and help me unload the car!”


	3. coffee and emotional blackmail

Jack remembers now why he doesn’t socialize much these days.

He sits in the wrought iron patio chair with a stiff spine. He’s having trouble meeting the gaze of the woman across the delicate glass bistro table. The cup in in front of him is now lukewarm but he can’t stop stirring the contents. And it’s black coffee. He can’t think of a single thing to say.

Ana is one of his oldest friends. Small favor that she at least has more understanding than others might when faced with his grouchy silences. The only problem is Ana has no trouble finding things to say to him.

“And how is Zenyatta these days?”

“Same as he was last week,” Jack grunts.

“Hmm, I remember he mentioned he’d found a new osmanthus tea the last time I saw you two at the hospital. Did you ask him about it for me?” She sets her teaspoon down, somehow not spilling a drop of her beverage. Jack already has a giant splotch of coffee on his pant leg. He’s just hoping she hasn’t noticed.

“No,” he says. Ana leans back in her chair, giving him her best ‘not mad, just disappointed’ look. It’s distressingly effective even on grown men. He sighs. “I’ll check with him next shift.”

“You won’t see him before then?” Ana asks. It sounds innocent but Jack knows a loaded question when he hears one.

“Don’t expect to.”

Ana hums again. “That’s fine, it’s not important.”

Jack tries his best not to squirm in his chair but the metal frame betrays him with a loud squeak. “I can text him,” he reluctantly offers.

“Oh, would you? Ask him if he wouldn’t mind meeting somewhere to discuss it. Provided he’s not too busy, I know his charge must be keeping him occupied.” She feigns a look of sudden epiphany. “Perhaps he could bring that nice young man! You’ll have to show me where to meet them.”

“Ana, you’re not conning me into some kind of get-together,” Jack warns.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ana blinks at him. “I am thinking only of tea. It would be a great help while we are so busy.”

“Then I’ll give you his number,” Jack says. “Nice try.”

“Oh very well,” Ana sighs, waving a hand. “I suppose that it can wait after all. I can always send Fareeha a package after she’s settled. It is exciting to receive the first piece of mail in a new place. Oh, and we will be expecting your help, of course.”

Jack’s nodding at the word ‘help’ before her sentence registers. “Of c—my help? For what?”

Ana takes a long sip of her tea. “Fareeha is moving into her dorm the day after tomorrow. You will be a very needed extra pair of hands.”

Jack frowns. “But…I thought Reinhardt was going?”

“He is,” Ana nods.

“Aren’t dorms pretty, you know, small?” Jack asks.

“They are,” Ana says.

“I’m not seeing how I fit into this equation, Ana. Literally.”

“Are you saying you’d rather not spend a few hours with some old friends? Particularly when they’re, how do you say it? In an hour of need?”

Talk about loaded questions. “Somehow it doesn’t sound like you are. If I’m wrong and Reinhardt can’t still bench press all of Fareeha’s belongings at once, let me know,” Jack growls. “Why do you need me there?”

“Because we do, and you will be there, and there will be no further questions.” Ana takes another sip before narrowing her eye at him. “Jack,” she says, quieter now. “When was the last time you saw Reinhardt? Or anyone you don’t work with, aside from me?”

“It hasn’t been…” Jack falters, thinking back. He’s not certain, but he thinks he might have last seen the big German man in the spring. Some farmers market Ana had hauled him to by his shirt collar. “Look, I know it doesn’t sound like it but I go…out…places.”

Ana’s gaze softens, which is somehow worse than everything she’s tried so far. “Please,” is all she says.

Which is how he finds himself parking his battered Honda across the street from Ana’s house Monday morning, bright and early. He’s barely out of the car before the earth shakes, the sky splits open with a thunderous roar, and he’s crushed into the biggest bear hug to have ever threatened human ribcage integrity.

“My friend! It has been an age!” Reinhardt shouts into Jack’s ear.

“Sure has,” Jack wheezes as he tries to wrench himself out of the man’s grip. “Put me down, alright?”

“Oh, of course! My apologies,” Reinhardt says, patting Jack’s shoulder with enough force to bruise. “I am glad you have come! We will be needing all the hands we can get today.”

Jack nods, beginning to wonder exactly how much stuff one college-bound girl could have. They go up into Ana’s small bungalow and into the crammed living room full of eclectic furniture, knickknacks of all sizes, and boxes. Lots and lots of boxes. He lets Reinhardt herd him through the maze following some invisible path into the kitchen where Ana shoves a cup of coffee into his hands. He nearly plunges his face into it in relief.

When he comes up for air he gives Ana a sheepish grin. “Thanks.”

“It’s the least I can do to get us started,” she says, waving a hand. “Fareeha! Time to move!”

Fareeha emerges from the back bedroom. She’s trying to be serious but isn’t quite able to hide all traces of her excitement. “I am ready,” she says. She gives Jack and Reinhardt a nod and her mouth twitches into a smile.

“Then let us send you off!” Reinhardt booms. He crushes her in a hug and moves to the living room, hefting several of the boxes in one go. Jack returns her nod awkwardly and helps her lift a papasan chair. Where she thinks she’s putting all of these things in a dorm room is beyond him but today he’s just the help.

Between the four of them it doesn’t take long to load everything into Ana’s and Jack’s cars. The entire day is worth it just to watch Reinhardt cram himself into Jack’s compact Civic—he knows he saw Ana taking pictures. “Would you mind if I make for myself a sunroof?” Reinhardt asks, his knees jammed against the dash and his elbow sticking out the window. Jack just laughs.

Unloading goes much faster, even if it does require a much longer walk from the only parking space Jack was able to find. Ana of course had conjured one right outside Fareeha’s dorm building. By the time they get their first load up to the room, the Amari women are done with theirs and are already chatting with a young woman bouncing in place on the other bed.

“Hiya,” she chirps when Jack walks in.

He sets his boxes down and nods at her. “Hey.”

“Guten morgen!” Reinhardt says behind him. “I hope you ladies are ready for the best times of your lives! Ach, those were the good old days.”

“Everything to you is the ‘good old days’, you old fool,” Ana says, patting him on the arm.

Reinhardt nods as Fareeha and her roommate laugh. “Ja, that is true.”

Jack hovers by the door as they chat, pretending he keeps missing Ana motion for him to come closer. He makes the mistake of meeting her gaze after a minute of this and she gives him an exasperated stare. It's a miracle their silent standoff goes unnoticed by the others but it's only a matter of time. Ana is not a patient person.

Jack takes initiative and coughs. "Going for the next load," he says gruffly and escapes into the hall.

"Oh, of course! I am coming," Reinhardt's voice booms behind him.

"I can help!" the roommate says and soon enough the entire pack is following on his heels. So much for escape.

They make a boisterous party between the roommate and Reinhardt, Ana egging them on in her sly manner. Fareeha comes out of her stoic shell quickly, eyes alight. Jack is just hoping to survive the next few hours with his hearing intact.

Reinhardt and Fareeha tackle the cumbersome chair while the roommate grabs a few suitcases. "Call me Lena," she grins at Jack. She's clearly expecting a response.

"Jack," he grunts. Ana scowls at him behind the girl's back as she picks up a few boxes. "Nice to meet you," he adds.

"Charmed, love," Lena laughs.

They move the rest of Fareeha's belongings without incident even if it is the loudest operation he's ever been involved with. At least there's safety in numbers from any violent attacks from rabid college mascots or aggressively helpful volunteers. And he does trust Ana and Reinhardt to watch his back—  
provided his life is in actual danger. Otherwise they're just as likely to film it.

Reinhardt flexes his biceps to garner laughs from the girls and begins rearranging the furniture to Fareeha's liking. Jack gives Ana a hopeful glance and after a moment spent feigning deep consideration, she nods. Before he can bolt she says, "I'll walk you back."

"Bye, Jack!" Fareeha stops hanging her clothes to give him a brief hug. "Thank you for your help."

"No trouble," he says. He nods to answer Lena's enthusiastic wave and breaks for the hall, Ana following in a much more stately manner. They fall in beside each other in comfortable silence. It almost reminds Jack of his own good old days, before Ana had retired from the military and he’d been booted out with kind words and a useless medal as consolation after…well. Jack shakes his head sharply to clear it and keeps walking.

“I really do appreciate this,” Ana says when they reach the car.

Jack shrugs. “Well, sure. Not that I believe for a moment you actually needed extra help. But I am here for you guys.”

She regards him with her remaining eye as though he were an absurd puppy that had nevertheless managed to do something endearing. Then she takes the last two boxes, overlooked in the previous trips, and balances them effortlessly. “You know, I’ve never once believed you were the boy scout you always pretended to be back in the army. But I will say this. You do have a very big heart, Jack Morrison.”

“Bite your tongue,” he scowls at her. She chuckles and gives his arm a warm squeeze. Then she heads back to Fareeha’s dorm and leaves him be.

As he watches her go his phone buzzes, catching him off guard. He frowns, considering one of the two people it would likely be has just left him on the sidewalk. He checks it with some trepidation, hoping it’s not an emergency call into work.

> Song, H. >> get ready!!! crashing your party! ;P

Jack’s mouth twitches involuntarily. He doesn’t hear from her often but his goddaughter, against all odds, thinks he’s an okay guy. He has no idea how that happened. Or how she intends to crash any non-existent party of his from San Francisco.

> sent << do I want to know?
> 
> Song, H. >> you’ll see! check your email :)

Jack rolls his eyes and gets into his shabby car. He’s really not sure he wants to know.


	4. moving out, five for fighting, The Roommate Situation

"I've decided," Sombra announces as they're loading the old station wagon with Jesse's belongings. 

Gabe is instantly suspicious. Jesse gives her a side eye as he walks by and asks, "¿Qué?"

"Mi gato," she says. "I'm naming it Reaper."

Gabe gives her a flat stare. "Do you think you're being funny?" he growls.

Sombra looks Gabe straight in the eye and says, "No. A man with the nerve to run a parenting blog under the handle 'elsegador' is someone I look up to."

“It’s not a parenting blog,” Gabe says as he shoves another box into her hands.

“Then what would you call it?”

“A place for me to complain about all the damn ingrates making my life a living hell.”

Jesse shrugs. “Sounds like a parentin’ blog to me.”

“Fuck off, cabrón,” Gabe says with no heat. Then he turns and points a menacing finger at Sombra. “Don’t repeat that.”

“Like you could stop me,” she huffs.

Jesse snorts as he stacks their boxes onto the precarious pile building in the car. "I'm stayin’ out of that one."

Gabe shakes his head as though he despairs of their existence and stomps back to the house. "I'm just glad to hear you appreciate me."

"I wouldn't go that far," Sombra says as they follow him back.

Peacekeeper has decided a nap in the entryway is the best idea ever and is stretched out as far as his long legs can reach. Gabe can see Sombra's newly christened cat perched on top of the living room bookcase, giving the dog his best judgmental stare. As he stands there Reaper turns his unblinking gaze on him. Gabe is actually a little impressed by the intimidating vibe he gives off. Maybe Sombra has the right idea after all.

Jesse hops over Peacekeeper to get by Gabe. Sombra comes up beside him and nudges the dog with a toe. Peacekeeper obligingly rolls over and slams straight into Gabe’s ankles. He manages to keep his balance and gestures at the animal with a dark look. “¿Ves lo qué quiero decir?” Sombra just shrugs.

She then moans as Jesse shoves another box into her arms. "Why are you making me help you and not Genji?"

"Because despite all appearances, between the two of you you're the one that actually lives in this house," Gabe says.

"Also the part where he's out in the mountains makes it a little hard to hand him a box," Jesse adds as he steps back over the canine roadblock.

"¿En donde está?"

Jesse stops so he can raise an eyebrow at her. "The mountain meditation hike Zenyatta takes him on before school? They do this every year."

"And he does this willingly?" Sombra squints at him. Gabe leans against the door frame, content to watch them do the rest.

"He loves it, he's been talkin’ about nothing else for the past month. Weren't you listenin’?"

"No." 

Gabe heaves the deepest sigh he can manage and heads back into the house.

\---

Jesse has no idea how, but they do finally manage to cram his things into the station wagon without resorting to their patented tied together string of shoelaces method holding the hatch closed. One would think they would get some bungee cords one of these days. He slams it shut and points a finger gun at Sombra. “Shotgun!”

She makes a face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he says as they mosey back into the house to grab last minute necessities like keys, water bottles, their driver. “That I get to ride in the front passenger seat. First to call shotgun wins.”

“Es una estupidez,” she says.

“No hago las reglas,” he shrugs easily, heading upstairs to his room to grab one final item—his most prized possession. He comes back down and strikes a pose, thumbs stuck in his belt loops. “I’m ready.”

Gabe snorts as Sombra stares at him. “No,” she says.

“Yep.”

“You are not serious,” she says.

“He’s very serious,” Gabe says. “Come on, train’s leaving.”

Jesse grins at him and makes one more stop to give Peacekeeper a full body hug. The dog covers his face in slobber as he laughs. “I’m gonna miss you, buddy.”

“It’s not like you’re leaving forever,” Gabe says, giving Jesse a look he can’t quite interpret. Some mix of exasperation, fondness, and maybe…a little sad? Jesse buries his face in Peacekeeper’s fur to give him a kiss then stands up and wraps Gabe in a hug. He feels Gabe’s strong arms go around his back and they stand there for a minute. Finally Gabe pulls back and holds him at arm’s length, gives Jesse a once over. “You’ll do fine, kid.” Then he walks outside without another word. 

Jesse turns to Sombra. She’s leaning against the counter, pretending to be engrossed in her phone. She looks up at him warily as Gabe leaves the room. He smirks. “Don’t worry, I’m not expectin’ a hug.”

“Bueno,” she says. Her eyes flick up once more and she shakes her head. “I can’t believe you’re taking that hat.”

“I ain’t going anywhere without it,” he laughs. The horn honks outside. 

“Damn,” she sighs, gesturing him out the door. “I was going to feed it to Reaper.”

Jesse yanks the wide brimmed cowboy hat firmly down around his ears as he settles into the seat beside Gabe. “Keep would’a defended it.”

“Your hat?” Gabe pulls out of the driveway. “I was going to let him play frisbee with it.”

Sombra cackles in the backseat as Jesse slouches. “Betrayed from all sides.”

The ride to UCLA is quick and Jesse’s glad he picked a place so close to home. He knows a lot of kids want to get as far from home as they can when college rolls around. For a long time he thought he’d be one of them. But when the time to apply had come, it felt like he’d already made the decision without consulting himself. He can’t imagine being too far from the house; he pretends his dog is the biggest part of that pull.

But it is far enough to provide the illusion of distance and he steps out in front of his dorm feeling like it’s the start of some adventure. Too bad the first stage is lugging all of his shit around. He grabs his first load and leads Sombra up the stairs. She whispers a commentary in Spanish on all the weird people filling the halls as they climb the stairs and approach the open door to Jesse’s new room.

Her reaction to a kid who looks like he freshly stuck a fork in an electric socket is priceless. Jesse is distracted laughing at her as they walk into his room and it takes him a few steps to really notice the interior. And once he gets an eye full, he pays for it. He stops dead in his tracks as the most beautiful guy he's ever seen in his life looks up from one of the desks. Sombra walks straight into his back and bowls him over, their boxes tumbling to the ground and spilling their contents everywhere.

Gabe manages to stop in the doorway before he too becomes a victim and just rolls his eyes. He sets his box down and leaves them to untangle themselves in a flurry of grapples and bitten off shouts. As mortified as Jesse is right now, there’s a large part of him that feels like he just brought a slice of home to his dorm. It’s almost comforting.

The hot guy—he must be Jesse’s roommate and he’s not sure if the next year is going to be torture or the best ever—is staring at them in total bewilderment. He’s probably not sure if it’s safe to offer aid or if he’d be better off keeping his distance. He must conclude they’re mostly harmless because he rolls to his feet in one graceful motion and comes over to offer Jesse a hand. Once Jesse gets leverage with his help, Sombra is able to extricate herself from the extra serape that spilled from his box. The guy pulls Jesse to his feet with a single tug as if he weighed nothing at all.

Jesse swallows thickly.

“Hi,” he tries, cursing his awkwardness. “Thanks, partner.”

The guy stares intently up at him. Then he frowns. “You are wearing a cowboy hat,” he says.

“Uh,” is all Jesse can think to say. “Yeah?”

The guy hums low in his throat, disapproval clear. Then he takes a step back and executes a precise bow. “I am Hanzo.”

Jesse’s mind is a complete blank as his face heats to the boiling point. “Uh,” he says again. He gives Hanzo the dorkiest wave possible and hates himself for it. “Hey.” 

Hanzo stares at him expectantly. When Jesse fails to untwist either his tongue or his thoughts enough to say anything, he raises an elegant eyebrow. “Do you also have a name I may use? Or would ‘cowboy’ suffice?”

Jesse is about to be the first scientific subject to die of embarrassment.

“I call him vaquero,” Sombra pipes up from behind him. He had no idea she was still here—and he knows for a fact she will never let him forget this. “So that would work.”

“Jesse,” he coughs out before she can add anything more damning. “It’s—that’s my name. Jesse.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Jesse,” Hanzo says, somehow conveying incredulity with perfect politeness. Sombra stifles a giggle. If she’s recording this, Jesse’s going to kill her. 

“Likewise,” he says. He gathers himself enough to tip his hat and flees back downstairs to the car.

Gabe stares at him as he barrels out the front door and slams into the side of the station wagon. Jesse folds his arms on the car’s roof and buries his face in them, moaning. “What’s with the dying moose noises?” Gabe asks, arms akimbo. “You done with college already?”

“Si,” Jesse says. “Take me home. I want my dog back.”

Gabe scoffs. “What the hell happened already?”

“I fucked up, Gabe. Ain’t no comin’ back from that. Wrecked any chance I had at a good year here.”

“You what?”

“He met his roommate. And made a complete fool of himself,” Sombra says as she exits the dorm in a much more sedate manner. Jesse glares at her. She pats his arm and adds, “I put in a good word for you.”

“What did you say to him?” Jesse squawks. He grabs her by the shoulders as she laughs but Gabe intervenes before it can escalate. He shoves them both towards the open hatch and the rest of Jesse’s boxes. 

“Knock it off, you’re not starting any shit here,” he growls at them. “If they tow this damn car because you took too long, you’re paying for it.” Properly re-motivated, they each grab another load and head back upstairs.

Jesse hesitates in the hall as Gabe and Sombra go into his room. When sounds of neither confrontation nor raucous laughter emerge, he sidles inside. Hanzo is nowhere to be seen. Jesse drops his boxes onto the bed with a heavy sigh.

Gabe gives him a long suffering look and sets a big hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t fuck anything up, Jesse.”

“Usted podría tener,” Sombra shrugs.

“Shut it,” Jesse sighs with no heat.

“You did not,” Gabe says as he gives Sombra a stern look. “You’ll meet plenty more people than just your roommate while you’re here. Besides, no matter how bad you think it was, I’m sure it can always get worse.”

Jesse stares at him and Sombra laughs. “You give the worst pep talks ever.”

Gabe shrugs with a pleased little grin. They manhandle the rest of his things up to the room with no sign of Hanzo, to Jesse’s relief. He’s mortified enough in the guy’s presence, the last thing he needs is Sombra heckling him. He’s contemplating living rough out of the library for the year as he goes back down to the car with them for the last time. 

They turn to face him on the sidewalk. Jesse doesn’t like the look on Sombra’s face at all but he turns his attention to Gabe first. “Thanks for gettin’ me here.”

Gabe nods. That strange expression is hovering around the edges of his dark features again. “Don’t know how else you would have done it, Dios te ayude.”

“I’d have figured somethin’ out.”

“Sure you would,” Gabe says without batting an eye. Jesse ignores the mock incredulous look Sombra gives him over his shoulder. “Let me know when you get sick of dorm food and want a real meal. And don’t piss off any of your professors in the first week, you got that?”

Jesse nods. “Second week, got it.” 

Gabe knocks his hat off his head and gives him a final one armed squeeze. "Buena suerte, usted ingrato cabrón." Jesse grins at him.

Sombra sidles up to him before getting in the station wagon. "You know," she begins and Jesse's immediately wary, "if you're worried about making an impression on your roommate, you can relax. I'm pretty sure he will never forget that memorable experience."

"Don’t remind me," Jesse groans and tackles her into a hug. She squawks and shoves him off, blowing him a kiss as she makes her escape. 

He stands on the dorm’s front steps watching them go for a long while after they’ve pulled out of sight. He thinks about going back upstairs to an empty room and sits on the front steps instead. He yanks his phone out of back pocket and opens his chat log with Genji, getting right to the point.

> sent << oh no he’s hot

His phone chimes almost immediately. Sometimes Jesse wonders if Genji gets cell service wherever he goes by sheer force of will.

> carrot-top >> !!!!!  
>  carrot-top >> details!!!  
>  carrot-top >> and by details I mean who are you talking about
> 
> sent << my roommate. this is a crisis
> 
> carrot-top >> more like a cry for help!  
>  carrot-top >> you came to the right place 僕の友達  
>  carrot-top >> you're hiding in the stairwell aren't you

Jesse laughs, leaning back against the wall.

> sent << no i am not
> 
> carrot-top >> ah. the front steps then
> 
> sent << shut your mouth
> 
> carrot-top >> I would but sadly for you I am not speaking :-)

Jesse pulls his hat down over his face and groans.

\---

The ride home is quiet. Sombra is absorbed in her phone, thumbs flashing over the keypad fast enough to blur. Gabe keeps his eyes on the road and doesn’t try to engage her in conversation. Mostly because heading in a forward direction and not turning right back around is taking his full concentration.

He honestly didn’t think it would be this hard. He knew this was coming; he thought he was ready to let his first kid, and the only constant in his post-catastrophe life, fly the coop. Hell, he used to plan operations and execute missions with life or death stakes without batting an eye. How could this possibly be harder than that? Especially since he all but forced Jesse to live in the dorms this year. The kid needs the full college experience, to live out on his own. Jesse’s an adult now. Gabe just needs to remind himself of that a few more times.

Despite paying excessive attention to the road, Gabe doesn’t remember the trip home. He comes back to himself when Sombra tosses off the seat belt and kicks open the car door. She pauses halfway upright and gives him a narrow-eyed glance over her shoulder.

“What,” he says. 

She pointedly looks over to his hands, still clenched on the steering wheel. “You ok?”

Gabe lets go and all but throws himself out of the car. “Fine.”

Sombra shrugs. “Whatever you say.” 

Peacekeeper charges the door as soon as they get it open, whuffing in his quietly excited way. Sombra sidesteps him and makes a beeline for her computer, gathers up Reaper, and disappears upstairs. Gabe and the dog stand in the entryway staring at each other. “Looks like it’s just us now,” he says. Peacekeeper slides down on the tile and lays his head on Gabe’s shoes, the picture of disappointment. “Yeah,” Gabe sighs. “Same here, buddy.”

He takes advantage of the quiet evening to complete his leftover paperwork, after forcibly reminding himself to only set two dinner plates out instead of three (or four). Then he relaxes on the couch with a couple fingers of whiskey to re-watch a few episodes of _La Reina del Sur_. The house is still, peaceful. 

Gabe hates it. 

Maybe he’ll try to convince Genji to move in full time. Zenyatta probably wouldn’t mind.

The night is even worse. Gabe sleeps for less than an hour before he jolts wide awake, the vestiges of his nightmares clinging to his mind. He shakes them off, splashes some cold water across his face. Tries going back to sleep. 

The next attempt goes no better. And the one after that is even worse.

Gabe gets up and moves quietly down the hall into Jesse’s room. He sits cross legged on the bed before he lets himself think about it and leans back against the wall. The room is neat and the bed is made with sharp corners. It looks…wrong. But he starts relaxing anyway. 

He snaps awake a little later when Peacekeeper jumps into his lap and flops over with a heavy sigh. Gabe chuckles as he runs a hand down the dog’s sleek head and tries to relax again. At least it’s not just him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! We’ve gotten a few comments about Reaper the Cat, so we wanted to reply. Reaper the Cat is 100% based off of Rochnariel's cat Loki, who is 16 pounds of muscle and very, very aptly named. Everything that Reaper the Cat gets into or does is likely something that Loki has done. She got him at an adoption event when she was neither planning on nor could afford to get a cat. He pounced on his siblings in the cage, and when she picked him up, he stuck a paw to her face and gave her a look that said, “You are mine now.” Also, Peacekeeper the Dog is a lab and greyhound mix. 
> 
> We’re not replying to comments because we don’t want to artificially inflate the comment numbers, but we do really appreciate all the love. You guys are the best! We're glad that other people want to read about the universe and story that came damn near fully formed into Rochnariel's head when El complained about the lack of Sombra in fic. =D
> 
> And if you have any questions, put them in the comments we'll try to reply in notes or shoot El an ask on tumblr (@eledhiel13).
> 
>  
> 
> (Corrected) translations for people on mobile:
> 
> ¿Ves lo qué quiero decir? - See what I mean?
> 
> "¿En donde está?" - He’s where?
> 
> Es una estupide. - That’s stupid.
> 
> No hago las reglas. - I don’t make the rules.
> 
> Usted podría tener. - You could have.
> 
> Lord help you. - Dios te ayude.
> 
> Buena suerte, usted ingrato cabrón. - Good luck, you ungrateful bastard.
> 
> 僕の友達 - My friend.


	5. first contact, this is war, canine destruction

Jack puts his shoulder to the apartment main door and shoves it open, feeling it shudder as he manhandles it past its halfway sticking point. He rounds the corner to grab whatever stupid promos or flyers make up his mail for today and stops short. Bastion is at his own box, whistling a cheerful tune as he sorts through the envelopes in his strangely boxy fingers. 

Jack squashes the impulse to go straight for the stairs. He reminds himself it's not the end of the world to meet another living being in the hallway. In fact, Bastion is the easiest person on the planet to stumble across; Jack has only ever heard him communicate with whistles and clicks, peppered with gestures that make up his own form of sign language. How hard could it be to exchange hellos with a guy like that? Grunting is practically Jack's second language.

Besides, he survived the gauntlet of Fareeha's move to college a few days ago. If he could make it through that production, he can talk to one neighbor. Especially one he sees at work all the time.

So Jack marches up to his mailbox. Bastion turns to face him with a delighted smile, clicking his tongue twice as he nods. "Hey," Jack says, feeling pretty proud of himself.

That feeling fades right away as Bastion seems to settle in for the long haul. He gives a long fluttering whistle, tilts his head, and sweeps a hand toward Jack. Jack reconsiders rushing the staircase but squares his shoulders instead. Was that a question? Probably.

"Uh, I'm good," he tries. "How're you?"

Bastion scrunches his face up into a happy grin. He gives a two tone whistle. Jack hopes that means he's doing well and nods, edging toward the stairs. But Bastion points to the front door, whistles once and clicks twice, and makes a flapping type of motion with his other hand. Jack blinks at him. 

"What?"

Bastion flaps his hand again and gestures between himself and Jack, his soft whistle rising in pitch as he then points outside again. Realization dawns: it's an invitation. 

"Oh," Jack says. "Sorry, I've gotta..." He makes his own weak gesture toward his apartment. "Thanks though."

Bastion shrugs with another smile and waves as he heads out the door. Jack tosses his junk mail into the recycling bin and takes the stairs two at a time. That's plenty of social interaction for the day, no matter what Ana says.

He kicks off his boots at the door and takes a quick shower, heading into the kitchenette as he towels his hair dry. He picks up a box of Easy Mac and stares at the directions for a minute. Then he puts it back in the cupboard and grabs the peanut butter instead. 

His phone buzzes for the first time in days as he's halfway through a sandwich. It takes him a full minute to find his discarded uniform pants, then to figure out which of the many pockets it ended up in. He's expecting maybe his supervisor or Zenyatta, something about today’s shift. He's not expecting Reinhardt.

> Wilhelm, R. >> Good evening my friend! 

Jack stares at the message. Before he can figure out what to do with it, more pour in.

> Wilhelm, R. >> I was wondering if I might ask of you a favor.  
>  Wilhelm, R. >> If that is you are not too busy of course!

Jack blinks at his phone a few more times before he gets his wits together. He just hopes he won't regret this.

> sent << hey. sure, what’s up?
> 
> Wilhelm, R. >> On Thursday I am in need of some help at my house.  
>  Wilhelm, R. >> I am renovating the rental apartment upstairs! Fareeha was helping but then she had the poor grace to start classes. Unbelievable!

The text startles a laugh out of Jack. There’s something about that day that pings in the back of Jack’s head so he checks his work schedule. It looks clear so he replies before he can think about it too much.

> sent << kids these days. i'll be there.
> 
> Wilhelm, R. >> Wunderbar! Danke schoen!

Jack settles onto his lumpy couch with a beer and some shitty reality tv show. Just as he’s really getting into it, the light goes on in his head. Thursday is supposed to be his next coffee date with Ana so she can poke her nose into his life once a week. Her schedule as a labor and delivery nurse was often more hectic than his so they end up meeting whatever day they both have free.

He picks his phone back up and opens his message log with Ana.

> sent << can't make coffee next week. helping reinhardt with his house.

He's on the third episode watching a bunch of morons backstab each other off a tropical island when his phone buzzes one more time.

> Amari, A. >> :)

Not two minutes later it goes off again. He ignores it for the rest of the episode, figuring Ana’s going to get a lot of mileage out of his favor to Reinhardt. But when he does pick it up he’s surprised once again.

> Song, H. >> hey!!! what do you say???

Shit, his email. Jack digs his prehistoric laptop out of its case buried in the closet and waits the ten minutes for it to boot. Once he gets into his email he sees Hana’s promised message.

> From: d.va@gmail.com  
>  To: soldier76@gmail.com  
>  Subject: BlizzCon!!
> 
> Hi Jack!
> 
> Are you ready for an invasion?? Mom’s taking me to BlizzCon this year so we’re going to be in town in November. You gonna be around??? We should meet up! We’ll be in town all weekend so let us know when you’re not working and we’ll hang out. Can’t wait!!!
> 
> Hana

Jack grins to himself as he reads it. He has never once passed on seeing them whenever they end up in the same town and he’s not about to start now. Bonus being his old high school friend and her daughter take his neurosis in stride—in fact, Hana’s never really known him any other way. She was only six when he’d been discharged. That’s one meeting he can agree to easily.

\---

Jesse almost trips over a bike rack outside the chemistry building when he realizes he's going the wrong way. He hooks a hand on a lamp post and spins himself around, taking off in the opposite direction. It's one thing to be late to the first class. The only things he'd been in danger of missing then were the syllabus, boring lab details, and Professor Lindholm's stories about both proper and his extensively tested improper use of the scientific method. The second class is when shit starts getting real.

So Jesse kicks himself into high gear and curses out every single eight am on his schedule for good measure.

He skids to a halt before he face plants into the lecture hall door and tries to slide through it as quietly as he can. He's faced with a sea of filled seats and rustling handouts passing between them like foam-covered waves. Just before Professor Lindholm finishes writing out a truly terrifying set of equations on the board, Jesse spies an open seat he can get to with minimal fuss and dives for it. 

Before his ass even hits the chair, the girl next to him lunges for the stack of papers that just passed her and snags an extra copy from the pile. She thrusts the packet into Jesse's face with a grin, knocking his hat askew. He winks and gives her a thumbs up and she chortles as the professor launches into his spiel.

"Now I can see most'a you eyein' this board like it'll bite you," Lindholm says, his thick accent warming his words. "But I can promise you physics ain’t that bad at all. It's the stuff of nature, it explains our everyday lives! You can't go wrong with that."

Jesse gulps and sinks low in the chair. This is the one gen ed class that scares him the most and he is distinctly not reassured.

The girl elbows him with a sharp jab. "Cheer up, love," she whispers. "We'll all go down together!"

Jesse laughs and draws his notebook closer. "'All for one', huh?"

"Exactly," she winks back at him. Evidently introductory physics doesn't hold much appeal for her either because not five minutes later she leans back in. "I'm Lena, by the way."

"Jesse," he says and tips his hat. 

She grins at him. "Oh, I like you, mate." They pass the remainder of the class interrupting each other's note taking and jostling elbows playfully until Lindholm finally releases them into the wilds. Lena links their arms as they head out into the sunshine. Jesse squints as the light hits his eyes and groans. "What's the matter?" Lena asks, sliding on a pair of aviators.

"Hours before noon shouldn't be legal," Jesse grumbles. "How are you so ungodly cheerful anyhow?"

"Fair warning, mate, I'm cheerful all the time," she says like she's threatening him. Jesse makes a show of rolling his eyes. "Besides, by my internal clock, it's a right lovely evening. Six o'clock, even! Couldn't be better."

"Well that's not too bad after all," Jesse says as they ramble through the throngs of students streaming up and down the sidewalks. "Hey, what lab've you got for this?"

Lena yanks a sheet of paper out of her backpack and consults it. "Today's, at...1 this afternoon, looks like."

"Is that right," Jesse grins. He shoots her a finger gun. "Then I'll see you there."

"All right!" she cheers, complete with a little hop and punch to the sky. "Oi, give me your mobile."

"My what?" 

"Your phone, you bloody yank!"

"Oye ahora," Jesse laughs and hands it over. She bites her lip as she taps out her number, then a metallic tone chimes from her bag. She hands his phone back and quirks an eyebrow.

"Not a yank?"

"Half a yank," he says and tips his hat. "Now I'm off to rustle up some breakfast. See you later, darlin'."

"Breakfast! I don't believe it," Lena laughs, giving him a two fingered salute as she turns to go.

"Don't sass me!" he shouts after her and goes in search of all the coffee he can find. Once he's inside the cafeteria he has to stop himself from putting a deep cereal bowl up to the coffee dispenser and instead fills up two mugs. After he collects the rest of his definitely-not-Gabe-approved-meal, he pulls his phone out and scrolls through the message log. A new text to someone called 'tracer' complete with exclamation mark is the most recent entry.

> sent << cowboy's number!!

Jesse rolls his eyes and shoves the phone back into his pocket. What is it with people fixating on his hat? It’s like they’ve never seen one before or something. But before he can draw his hand away, his phone chimes. He pulls it back out.

> carrot-top >> and how is The Roommate Situation today

Jesse sighs and takes another few bites before answering.

> sent << dunno, haven't seen him  
>  sent << shouldn't you be in class
> 
> carrot-top >> what! still?!  
>  carrot-top >> and yes but why does that matter

Jesse does a halfhearted scan of the cavernous room, despite knowing that if he hasn't seen Hanzo in their room today it's much less likely he'll run into him out and about. Hanzo's daily routine so far seems to involve getting up before Jesse's awake and vacating the premises, doing lord knows what away from the room all day, and coming back late in the evening for a quiet study session before going to bed with little more than a few polite words exchanged. In fact, if it weren't for those few precious minutes Jesse sees him before Hanzo climbs into his bed and firmly turns his back to the room, he wouldn't be sure he had a roommate at all. Hanzo's side of the dorm is neat to an obsessive degree and looks almost unoccupied.

Jesse's getting in the habit of streaming some of Gabe's favorite Spanish telenovas on his laptop whenever he's there by himself, just to make it feel like someone else is there. And that is definitely the only reason—it's not because he enjoys them too or because he misses the sounds of home.

He shoves another piece of toast in his mouth and thumbs at his phone with the cleaner of his hands.

> sent << i'm starting to think my dorm’s just haunted and he's not real
> 
> carrot-top >> or maybe he's got another roommate on the side! gasp!
> 
> sent << scandalous  
>  sent << knew i should've signed a pre-nup
> 
> carrot-top >> hindsight :-)  
>  carrot-top >> bet he'll try to get custody of the hat
> 
> sent << NEVER

The time in the top corner catches his eye and Jesse crams his phone back into his jeans, grabbing his backpack and making a break for the door. Seems like running full tilt to make it to classes on time is just going to be his style.

\---

“School going ok?” Gabe asks the kid sitting across from him in the vinyl booth.

Ricky pushes around the last couple french fries on his plate. “It’s alright,” he finally offers.

“You still planning to play baseball this spring?”

Ricky lights up. “Yeah! Mr. Corten’s been takin’ me to the batting cages so I’ll be ready.”

“Well that’s good,” Gabe says, resting an elbow on the table and pushing his own empty tray aside. “Things at home going well then?”

Ricky shrugs but he can’t quite tamp down on a tiny grin. “Yeah,” he says. “They’re ok.”

Gabe nods, returning his smile. “I’m glad to hear that. We should have some more details on your parents’ progress pretty soon, but I don’t want you miserable while you wait.”

Before he can say anything else, Gabe’s phone rings. He reaches for it where it sits face up on the table to silence it and does a double take. It’s Sombra’s school. He frowns. “Mind if I take this?” Ricky shakes his head, picking up the remains of his Sprite. Gabe swipes the screen. “Reyes.”

“Mr. Reyes, this is Assistant Principal Phillips from—“

“What happened?” he snaps.

“Uh,” Phillips falters. “It seems there was an…incident in Maria’s history class.”

“She prefers Sombra. What kind of incident?”

“Excuse me?”

“Her preferred name is Sombra, it should be on her paperwork,” Gabe says through gritted teeth. “Now what incident?”

“Oh, I see. Well, it seems she caused a disturbance in class and we’re sending her home. If you could come collect her at your earliest convenience…” 

Gabe drops his forehead into a palm and takes a deep breath. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he says and hangs up before Phillips can say any more. He looks up at Ricky, who raises his eyebrows as he chews on his straw. “Looks like we’ve got to cut this short. I’ve been summoned.”

“Ok,” Ricky says, picking up his tray. The drive back to his school is short and Gabe sends him back to classes with little problem. But Sombra’s school is on the other side of the city. He spends most of the drive laying on his horn as two separate minivans cut him off. He flips off a final SUV and swerves into the school’s parking lot, stomping straight in to the main office.

Sombra sits in a chair just outside the Assistant Principal’s door, arms firmly crossed and gaze boring a hole in the ugly carpet. He stops in front of her but she doesn’t acknowledge his presence. 

“Sombra,” he says. She keeps staring at the floor, frown deepening by a degree. 

“Mr. Reyes,” Phillips says, sticking his head out the door. Gabe starts to follow him in but Sombra doesn’t move. He shifts back to stand in front of her and nudges her foot. She raises her head to glare at him instead but still doesn’t stand up. 

“Don’t make me haul you in by the collar,” he says. She stares at him for another long moment before standing up and walking past him into the office. He takes the seat next to her across the desk from Phillips. “So what’s the deal?”

“According to the statement I have from Mr. Anderson, Mar—I mean, Sombra spent the class period being highly disrespectful and disrupting the lesson. We opted to remove her from classes for the rest of the day. We need to schedule a meeting to discuss the incident. Unless you’d be willing to wait another ten minutes for his class to be done and we could meet now?”

Gabe glances at Sombra. She’s now staring resolutely at the desk, arms folded across her chest, and she still won’t look at him. “Next week would be better,” Gabe says to Phillips. They set it for Tuesday and Gabe herds Sombra out through the halls just before the last class gets out and they flood with students—and possibly her teacher. Sombra still says nothing the entire walk to the car and slams her door shut with finality. 

Gabe sits beside her and makes no move to put his key in the ignition. “When are you going to tell me what happened?” he asks.

She shrugs. 

Gabe opens his mouth but a knock on the window interrupts him. Genji stands outside, backpack sliding off his shoulder. “Would you mind giving me a ride?”

Gabe considers the very quiet drive back to the house that’s ahead. Sombra still doesn’t look at him. He shrugs and waves Genji inside. 

Any hope he has of calmly addressing the issue disappears the minute they walk in the front door. Peacekeeper is shredding a couch cushion in the middle of the living room, surrounded by the carnage of three others. He looks up as they come in, gives them a grin full of cotton-flecked teeth, and resumes his violence against foam padding.

They stand in the entryway staring at him for a good few minutes. Then Gabe thrusts the dog’s leash at Genji and points to the door. “Take him for a run,” he growls. Genji nods and darts into the living room to collect the dog, getting him outside and out of the line of fire in short order. 

Gabe stalks past the mess to the kitchen and grabs the flour out of the pantry, slamming a few mixing bowls onto the counter with satisfying clangs. 

Sombra follows him in and finally abandons her vow of silence. “What are you doing?”

“Stress relief,” he says. He shoves the carton of eggs into her arms and she has to juggle it to keep hold of it. “Crack these.” They assemble the batter for Gabe’s go-to chocolate chip cookie recipe without another word. When the first tray goes into the oven, Gabe points to a stool at the island and grabs a couple bottles of water. “Start talking.”

Sombra frowns at the counter. “Why should I?” she asks, voice sullen.

“How else do you expect me to handle that stupid meeting? I can’t defend you if I don’t know your side.” Sombra gives him a disbelieving scowl. Something in Gabe’s chest twists at the sight. “I mean it.”

“Sure you do,” she says, spinning her bottle between her fingers. 

“Hey,” he sighs, “what do you really have to lose? Try me.”

The timer goes off while she hesitates. Gabe grabs the tray and goes to stick in the second one when she finally speaks. “He kept calling me Maria.”

Gabe slams the oven shut and goes back to his seat. “He does it knowing your preference for Sombra?”

She nods. “Repeatedly, all week. He emphasized it, called on me constantly so he could keep using it. He refused to acknowledge me any time I tried to correct him. So I stopped responding at all.”

“And they called that disruptive?”

“Well,” Sombra glances back down at the counter. “Today I might’ve heckled him. Constantly. In Spanish. I was sick of it.”

Gabe doesn’t bother to hide his laugh. Sombra looks up at him in surprise. He grabs a warm cookie off the cooling rack and tosses it to her. “I’m probably not supposed to encourage you but that’s pretty good. Think any of your classmates’ll be willing to back you up on this?” She blinks at him a few times. “You’d be surprised. And he is pretty much harassing you. I think we can make a case.”

“Oh,” she says. “Maybe. I can ask around.”

“Ok,” Gabe nods. “We’ll line up an argument and get some support before the meeting. Sound like a plan?”

Sombra shrugs. “We’ll see,” she says but he can hear the warmth buried in her bored tone.

“Good.” He grabs the next tray out of the oven and shoves the cooling racks away as she reaches for another cookie. He points to the living room. “Go clean up those cushions before you eat any more of these.”

“Ugh, fine,” she says, fighting down a small smile as she rolls her eyes. She passes Genji coming back inside and they exchange playful shoves. Genji makes an appreciative noise and lunges for the cookies but Gabe bats his hand away.

“Nice try. Help me make actual dinner first.” Sombra laughs as he groans and Gabe feels a little lighter. 

They’re halfway through chopping vegetables when Genji gives a sudden jerk, glancing down at the floor. Gabe raises an eyebrow as he ducks behind the island. He pops back up with Reaper in his arms, staring at the cat like he’s never seen one before. 

“When did this get here?” he asks. Reaper head butts his chin and yowls so Genji scratches behind his ears. 

“Oh, that. Last week sometime.” 

“He’s mine,” Sombra shouts from the living room. “His name is Reaper.” 

Genji chuckles. “Of course it is.” Reaper climbs out of his arms to perch on his shoulder and rubs his head against Genji’s lime green hair. Genji turns beseeching eyes on Gabe. “So does that mean I’m next? When do I get my ferret?” Just as he’s turning his act up to eleven, Peacekeeper comes into the kitchen. Which prompts Reaper to hiss and vault off Genji’s shoulder overtop the dog, after which Peacekeeper must give chase. Sombra shouts as they run her over on their way up the stairs.

“No,” Gabe snaps, shoving his pile of vegetables into the pot. Genji laughs and pretends to sulk as Sombra comes back in brushing stray shreds of foam off her shoulders. “This house is enough of a damn circus as it is.”

“Oh come on,” Sombra gives him a sly grin. “How much trouble could a ferret be? It can’t be any more than Jesse was and he’s out now.”

“Don’t even start,” Gabe says. So of course they gang up on him over dinner. He plays up his grouchy denials to keep them laughing, already feeling better about the clusterfuck today had turned into. “You don’t even live here!” he grouses as he packs up the usual extra portion for Genji to take home to Zenyatta.

“By the way, I heard about today from Carlos and Bella. A couple of my bandmates,” he says to Sombra’s blank look. “They are in your history class.”

“Oh,” she says, expression darkening into a scowl. “I’m glad they found it entertaining.”

“No, no,” Genji shakes his head. “I meant to say, they will be willing to support your side. They seemed displeased Anderson was picking on you.”

Gabe nods to him as Sombra stands there blinking. “Thanks, Genji. See if they wouldn’t mind pitching in.” Genji gives them a thumbs up as he glides out the door. Sombra watches him go with a perplexed expression, but recovers herself and darts up the stairs before Gabe can say anything else.

Gabe shakes his head, and in the process catches sight of the living room again. Peacekeeper is curled up in a small nest of torn up foam, napping happily. Gabe turns on his heel and heads back into the kitchen to pack up some of the cookies. Might as well send Jesse something to help him win over his roommate. And maybe he’ll whip up some brownies to add to it tonight as well. Sleep is a thing that happens to other people these days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> Oye ahora - Hey now


	6. opening battles, home renos, the art of tailgating

Gabe sits bolt upright when he catches sight of the time. He lunges across his desk for his phone, jamming his fingers on the button to unmute his call. “Andrea, I need to stop you there. I’ve got another meeting.” 

“Oh, sure,” her voice echoes through the line as he starts shoving things haphazardly into his bag. “But what do you think the odds these proceedings will—“

“No, Andrea, I’m leaving now. I’ll call you tomorrow.” 

“Alright,” she says. “We can discuss the files for—“ He jabs the end call button, knowing she’s not going to stop on her own. She’s one of the better child advocates he works with but the woman always says two hundred words when five will do. Besides, she’s used to him.

He’s out the door and halfway down the hall before he realizes he’s missing his keys, so he skids to a halt and executes a neat about face. He grabs it as the click clack of stilettos on tile echoes down the hall. Gabe holds up his free hand before Amélie can open her mouth as she leans a hip against the doorframe. “I’ve gotta run. Meeting at Sombra’s school.”

“Ah,” she nods. “This history teacher, no?” She waves him on. “Give him hell.”

He starts walking backwards down the hall. “Is it important?”

“Not terribly. I will come by the house tonight.”

Gabe salutes her and breaks into a jog. He climbs into his car and drives off as quickly as he dares. Miraculously, traffic moves along without issue and he makes it to the school with time to spare. 

Sombra is once again waiting for him outside the office. But this time she meets his eyes when he walks in the door; she holds her head high and her shoulders are squared. That’s his girl. 

“¿Clase de corte?” he asks as he takes the seat next to her.

Sombra shakes her head, flipping a dark swatch of hair over her shoulder. “They sent me a hall pass about ten minutes ago. Maybe they’re afraid I’ll disappear.”

Gabe chuckles as the assistant principal’s door opens. “Mr. Reyes? If you and Sombra would like to come in, we can get started.” Gabe swears that he didn’t imagine Phillips’ slight pause before Sombra’s name but he’s not going to make a big deal out of it. At least he’s using the right one.

Phillips shuffles a few papers as they take the same seats they occupied last week. Gabe leans forward and fixes him with a hard stare. “Is Anderson coming? I want to speak with him.”

Phillips nods. “Mr. Anderson will be joining us shortly. I thought we could start by discussing a plan to correct Sombra’s behavior in class.”

“No,” Gabe says. “First we should discuss what actually happened. Sounds like there’s two sides to the story.” 

Phillips blinks at him. “Excuse me?”

“What you told me doesn’t quite match what Sombra told me. And I know she’s not lying to me.” Gabe sees Sombra glance at him out of the corner of his eye. She looks startled. He knows she’s lied to him plenty in the past, but he’s certain she gave him the truth this time. Besides, these days it’s more likely she’ll just outright refuse to talk if it’s a subject she’d rather dodge. He turns to her and nods. “Mind telling him what you told me?”

Sombra takes a deep breath and straightens her spine. “Mr. Anderson refused to use my preferred name and wouldn’t stop calling me by my given name. By the end of the week he was being outright hostile about it. So I responded.”

“We have a few witnesses to the incidents if you need a second opinion,” Gabe adds.

“I see,” Phillips says. He frowns down at his desk and makes a note on one of the pages. The office door swings open and a gangly man saunters in, wisps of greying hair floating around his ears. His limbs swing loosely like a marionette. “Ah,” Phillips says. “Mr. Reyes, this is Mr. Anderson.”

Gabe stands, drawing himself up to his full height to loom over the man. He stares Anderson in the eye as he shakes his hand, putting extra heat into his glare. He knows his scars make him extremely intimidating and he knows how to use it to his advantage. Anderson looks away. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Anderson says, his reedy voice whistling through his nose. “Have we already gone over Maria’s behavior?” Sombra folds her arms across her chest and gives her teacher a dark look.

“Her name,” Gabe says through clenched teeth, “is Sombra. It’s in her paperwork. Why are you refusing to use it?”

Anderson waves a hand but takes a step away from Gabe. “Her paperwork lists her given name as Maria. I have a strict policy not to cater to the whims of adolescence. If I didn’t, I’d be calling these kids ridiculous things like Frog or Scout. It’d be chaos! They were given an official name at birth and that’s what I use.”

“There’s a difference between a nickname among teenagers that’s gone in a week and a preferred name listed in official school records,” Gabe says, biting out each word. “There are kids that don’t identify with the name they were given and don’t have the legal means to change it. Which, if I’m not mistaken, is why that box is on the forms.”

“That’s not the issue we are discussing today,” Phillips cuts in, hands outstretched in a placating gesture. “We need to address discipline to prevent further classroom disruptions.”

“Has Sombra’s behavior been an issue in any other classes?”

“No,” Phillips says.

“Then I think the answer to the problem is obvious. Sounds like this policy of his is the root issue.”

“I’m not catering to the demands of these kids! I use every student’s given name and your daughter is the only one causing disruptions,” Anderson snaps.

“My daughter,” Gabe says as evenly as he can, “has a very good reason for not using her given name. One which we do not need to explain to you. And I highly doubt she’s the only kid you make uncomfortable with your policy. She’s probably just the first to speak out about it.” Anderson frowns and crosses his arms. “We’re not asking you to like or understand her preference, but you should respect it.”

“Sombra, would that solve this problem?” Phillips asks her, cutting into Gabe and Anderson’s discussion. 

Sombra shrugs. “I won’t escalate if he doesn’t. I just want to be called by my name. It doesn’t seem like too much to ask.”

Phillips turns back to Anderson. “Anthony, Mr. Reyes has a point. We do include an option for preferred name and we should be respecting those choices, since they are in our official paperwork.” Anderson heaves a sigh and frowns at Phillips but says nothing. “Now about discipline for Friday,” Phillips continues. “This is a first offense, but it concerns me that it happened in the first week of school. Normally it would be a few days of detention, but since Sombra was removed from classes for half the day Friday we can count that and the rest of today as an unofficial suspension. Any objections?”

“Not from me,” Gabe says as Sombra shakes her head. If Gabe remembers her schedule right she’ll be missing gym today. She doesn’t seem at all upset.

“I’m satisfied,” Anderson says. He gives Phillips and Gabe a curt nod and leaves the office. Gabe narrows his eyes at the man’s retreating back. It did not escape his notice that Anderson never actually agreed to stop calling her Maria. 

Gabe sees Sombra stick her tongue out at Anderson while Phillips is looking down but she schools her expression once he glances back up. “I’m warning you though,” he tells her, “if the disruptions continue, you will be suspended for real and it will go in your record.”

“I understand,” she says, face perfectly straight.

“Thank you for coming in, Mr. Reyes.” Phillips sticks his hand out for Gabe to shake.

“Thanks for taking this seriously,” Gabe says, preparing himself to see a lot of the inside of this office over the next year. He herds Sombra out into the hall and asks, “¿Necesita agarrar algo de su casillero?”

“No. Lo tengo todo.” Sombra tugs on the strap for her backpack, heading towards the parking lot. Gabe gives her a lopsided grin and ruffles her hair as she squawks and bats his hand away.

Amélie is waiting in the driveway when they get home, leaning against the side of her sporty little coupe. She sips from one of the paper coffee cups in her hands. Gabe knows her well enough to catch the subtle look of appraisal she gives Sombra as the girl climbs out of the car.

Amélie walks past his outstretched hand and shoves the second cup at Sombra. Sombra startles but takes the cup on reflex. She tries to play it cool and raises an eyebrow but clutches the cup to her chest.

Amélie waves a hand airily. "A reward is always in order whenever we must listen to boring old men drone on about how they know what is best for us, no?" Sombra’s face blossoms into a smile and Amélie actually winks. Gabe must be dreaming. "Now you," Amélie turns to him. "We have work to do, what are you doing standing around?" 

"Where’s the one for me?" he scowls, playing up the act. He knows full well it’s in Sombra’s hands.

"You’ll get coffee when you do something to deserve it," Amélie says and Sombra outright giggles. Gabe has to struggle to keep his face straight. "You can start by carrying that." Amélie points at a heavy box of files and walks to the front door alongside Sombra without waiting for him. He waits until their backs are turned to grin to himself.

\---

Jack stands on Reinhardt's front porch, rumpled bag of pastries clutched in a death grip in one hand as his other hovers over the knocker. He likes Reinhardt. It should not be this hard to knock on a stupid door. But he can't help the cold anxiety pooling in his gut. He's just not good with other people, hasn't been for years. He can't pinpoint when he embraced the hermit lifestyle, but he's set in it now and it's hard to shake.

Casual encounters always seem to include questions like 'what's going on in your life', leading inevitably into 'how are you coping' (the ‘after all this time’ is usually unsaid but implied. Usually). And somehow always ending up with 'what can I do to help you'. Conversations that leave a bad taste in Jack's mouth and increase his impulse to avoid other people in anything not work related. At least his patients are too distracted by their own problems to cross examine his life. And Zenyatta’s not the type of partner to pry. He’s pretty zen about life.

Heh, zen. Jack chuckles to himself.

But this is Reinhardt. One of the few people who isn't bothered by Jack's assorted oddities, whom he moved to LA to be closer to after his discharge. It's not like he had anywhere else to go anyway. He definitely wasn't going back to Indiana.

Jack tries to get a grip on himself and knocks on the door.

It opens at once. "Welcome!" Reinhardt says, wide grin stretching his face as he waves Jack inside. 

Jack gives him a halfhearted scowl. "You were waiting for me to knock, weren't you?"

Reinhardt shrugs, wholly unconcerned. He ushers Jack into his kitchen and grabs a full coffee pot. "I did not want to deprive you of the experience."

"Thanks," Jack chuckles. He hovers in the doorway as Reinhardt pours out two mugs and offers one to him. He gestures toward the tall kitchen table with its barstool height chairs, suitable for such a big man. 

"Would you like to sit?" he asks. One corner of his mouth quirks as he gives Jack a knowing look. "Or would you perhaps prefer we begin upstairs?"

"I'm ready to start if you are," Jack says quickly. Reinhardt nods once and leads the way to the rental suite stairs with no fuss. Jack's anxiety eases by a degree. Reinhardt gets him.

The top floor rental isn't exactly spacious, although it’s much larger than Jack’s apartment. It’s bright and airy, loaded with lots of nooks and crannies created by the roofline. It's also completely bare. The framing is done and most of the drywall is up but there’s not much else. Jack glances at Reinhardt as he gestures to one wall that has some rough plumbing coming out of it. "This will be the kitchen. The cabinets will be delivered soon so we will work here. We will be marking out studs and the upper cabinet height before they get here, so it will be easier to install them.” He shrugs with a sheepish grin. “I had already taped and mudded these walls before I thought to mark the studs."

Jack chuckles. "No problem. I can handle that," he says as he drops the pastry bag onto a folding table next to their coffee mugs. "Got any chalk lines?"

"No need. I have something better!" Reinhardt picks up a little device and demonstrates the fancy laser level against the wall. Jack takes another look at the equipment scattered around the apartment, all nicer and much better cared for than what he'd expect from rented pieces. 

"This is more than just a onetime project, isn't it?" 

"Ja," Reinhardt says as he gathers a few more tools, including a clearly well-loved stud-finder that he hands over to Jack. He then picks up a tape measurer and pencil. "It is a hobby of mine. I can only sit at a keyboard for so long, after all. Even when I have deadlines. In fact, the sooner a manuscript is due, the less I can sit still! I helped Ana with their house, you know."

"Huh." Jack runs the stud finder along the first section of wall Reinhardt indicates. "I guess I didn't know that."

"And I will help you when you move out of your tiny place as well," Reinhardt says with a significant look. Jack frowns. Sure, his apartment is pretty shitty but it's something he can reasonably afford and is really all he needs. 

“My place is fine,” Jack says.

“Of course it is,” Reinhardt says agreeably. “But surely you will not forever stay in that apartment?” 

Jack ducks his head and pretends his glasses have slipped out of place. Long term plans aren’t really a thing he does. He’s never quite gotten out of one day at a time mode. He doesn’t care what most people think of the continuous state of limbo that makes up his life. But saying that out loud to Reinhardt, whom he knows has plenty of his own demons, makes him a little ashamed.

The doorbell rings and saves him from having to answer. Reinhardt jumps to his feet with impressive agility. "Ah! That will be the cabinet delivery."

They spend the next few hours wrestling the big boxes up the twisting staircase and installing the cabinets. It goes a lot smoother than Jack expected; holding the uppers against the wall is no concern for a man with Reinhardt's strength. And the fancy laser level makes it easy to keep them aligned correctly. Jack needs only to follow Reinhardt around and anchor the cabinets to the studs they’d marked out. And he only trips over an extension cord once, which he counts as a win. 

Finally they screw the last lower cabinet in place and Jack climbs out from inside it with relief. He sits back on his heels and swipes an arm across his brow, taking a minute to look around the half-finished kitchen and appreciate their progress. And to eyeball the cabinets one more time to make sure they're all sitting level, as if his damaged eyes could do a better job than those fancy tools. So far so good.

"This is really shaping up, Reinhardt," he says. 

"Ja." Reinhardt lumbers to his feet and gives the lower cabinet next to him a fond pat. They start collecting the tools strewn around the kitchen to straighten up. "I am pleased with how it is turning out. I could not have done this part without you, Jack.”

Jack gives him a fondly skeptical look. “Well, you’re welcome. But I kind of doubt that.”

Reinhardt shrugs and hefts a bag onto his shoulder to take downstairs. “It is hard to hold a cabinet and screw it in at the same time. Oh,” he says as the head to the door. “I have been meaning to ask you, are you working on Saturday? I know you are not interested in the football game but we are having a tailgate beforehand. Would you like to stop by for breakfast?”

“Football game?” 

“The college game! UCLA is playing Hawaii this week. We are meeting with Fareeha and her friends beforehand. We do this for every home game.”

“Oh right,” Jack says. “Uh, thanks but I’ll pass. Maybe some other time.”

Reinhardt doesn’t push the issue but Jack can tell he’s disappointed. He’s used to Ana harassing him, but somehow Reinhardt’s concern for his well-being makes Jack feel guilty. 

“I, uh,” he blurts, hesitating on the stairs. Reinhardt pauses to look back up at him and Jack mentally kicks himself. “Did I tell you Hana’s coming to town? My goddaughter,” he says when Reinhardt raises inquisitive eyebrows. “Her mom’s bringing her for some gaming thing in November.”

“Ah, you will get to see her?” Reinhardt asks and Jack nods. Reinhardt’s smile is blinding. “That is very good! I’ll bet you cannot wait.”

“Yeah,” Jack says with a small grin of his own. “I’m looking forward to it.” He’s a little surprised to find that’s even true.

\---

“Good morning, love!”

Jesse mumbles incoherently into the phone that he doesn’t even remember picking up. Lena’s cheerful voice is too much to take before coffee on a Saturday.

“Get up already!” Lena laughs in his ear. “We’re coming to get you.”

“What have I told you about hours before noon?” Jesse asks. He hauls himself out of bed and tries not to fall down the ladder or drop the phone.

“Ah, but it’s a noon football game, mate. You’d miss it if you didn’t get up until then.”

Jesse glances over at the clock while digging for a clean pair of jeans. “Damn it, Lena. It’s not even eight.” Jesse turns a little guiltily toward his roommate’s bed, aware of the ruckus he’s making. Surely even Hanzo wouldn’t be up and out of the dorm before eight am on a Saturday. But the bed is empty and neatly made. How someone can get hospital corners that sharp on a lofted bed, Jesse may never know. He’s lucky if his own blankets stay on the same side of the room as his bed.

“I’ve been reliably informed that football games cannot be properly experienced without tailgating first,” Lena says. She does a good job schooling her voice with an imperious tone but he can tell she’s still laughing at him. “So we’re going to this tailgate thing for breakfast whether you like it or not. Especially for our first college football game!”

“Fine, but I need all the coffee first. Give me five minutes and I’ll be down.” Years of experience in waking up at the last possible moment before school has Jesse presentable in the allotted time. He grabs his hat and heads out to the door to meet the girls.

Jesse yanks the brim down and glares at the sun as he exits the dorm. Surely it’s so damn bright as a personal offense to him. He sees Lena bouncing on her toes next to a taller, dark haired girl and shambles towards them. Lena grins when she sees him and darts over to give him a hug.

“He lives! Cowboy, this is my roommate Fareeha,” Lena says, sweeping a hand grandly toward the other girl. “Fareeha, this is Cowboy. We’re suffering through Physics together.”

Jesse tips his hat to Fareeha. “Name’s actually Jesse McCree. Lena’s just a little fixated on the hat.”

“Well, it is a unique look around here. It’s not like we’re at Texas A&M,” Fareeha says.

“Hey,” Jesse scowls, mock offended. Fareeha shrugs unapologetically with a playful smirk. “Now about that coffee?” Jesse prompts with a hopeful look at Lena. She laughs, threading her arm through his elbow and leading them down the street.

“I found this great little shop the other day. Should be enough to get you to the actual tailgate. Fareeha promised me food and coffee once we get there but I’m not sure you’re going to make it without help.” Jesse dramatically drapes his weight onto Lena’s shoulder as if the few blocks walk was too much for him. They stagger into Fareeha, who grabs them both and hauls them upright with a strength that belies her slim frame.

“Reinhardt always handles the breakfast tailgates,” she says as she gives them a forward shove. “The coffee should be strong enough to keep you awake even if the food may be a little…unique.”

Lena directs them through a nondescript door, playfully jabbing Jesse’s side as he leans further into her. “Next time, I’ll just bring the coffee to you, love. Save myself from having to haul your dead weight around.” Lena throws him off and shoves him towards the counter to order his life giving coffee. He takes a parting swipe at her as he goes.

Turning towards the barista, he is not at all prepared to see his roommate. In a moment oddly reminiscent of their first meeting, he stops dead in his tracks and Lena and Fareeha crash right into his back. Hanzo just raises an eyebrow at him.

“Did you want something to drink or are you just here to provide the day’s entertainment?” Hanzo asks when Jesse stands there staring as Lena and Fareeha sort themselves out. The world should not expect immediate coherence from him when presented unexpectedly with Hanzo’s beauty. Unfortunately, Hanzo always seems to.

“Uh, yeah. I want the biggest, darkest roast coffee you’ve got.” Jesse turns towards the girls. “Want anythin’? My treat.” Jesse smirks at Lena. “Not that you ever need sugar or caffeine.”

Fareeha shakes her head as Lena peruses the board, leaning back into Jesse’s side. “Sure. I’ll have a large white chocolate hazelnut mocha with extra whip and an extra shot. Thanks, love.”

Hanzo rings up the drinks and directs them down the counter. Jesse catches himself before walking away. “Hanzo, this is my friend Lena and her roommate Fareeha. Girls, this is my roommate Hanzo.”

Hanzo gives the same precise bow that he had at his and Jesse’s first meeting, eyeing Lena a little as she chirps a hello and Fareeha nods.

They grab their coffees from the other barista, a short brunette who smiles warmly at their caffeine related enthusiasm as she pushes her thick glasses further up her nose. Jesse’s about to ask her how she’s not overheating in her thick sweater when Lena grabs his wrist and hauls him out of the shop after Fareeha. Fareeha leads them with confidence back through campus, threading through the growing crowd with ease. Jesse is totally lost by the time she hauls them over to a parking lot near the football stadium.

“Why is everyone here so damn early for a game that doesn’t start for hours?” Jesse complains, clutching his coffee to his chest and trailing the girls as best he can. Lena’s loose grip on his wrist is the only way he keeps pace with them.

“Because, my friend,” a loud voice booms from just behind them. “Tailgating is an art!”

Fareeha spins around at the voice and is quickly engulfed in a hug from a giant of a man. “Reinhardt!”

“Fareeha! How are classes?” Reinhardt releases her, and a petite woman with a strong resemblance to Fareeha takes his place.

“The same as when I talked to you earlier this week,” Fareeha laughs as the woman releases her. “Mom, Reinhardt, this is Jesse. Jesse, this is my mother, Ana, and our friend Reinhardt.”

“Nice to meetcha.” Jesse tips his hat to them.

Ana smiles, mischief twinkling in her eye. “Good to meet you as well.”

“Sit, sit!” Reinhardt directs them to a nearby circle of camping chairs. “I’m sure you are all hungry.”

Jesse and Lena jump for the same chair and the scuffle immediately devolves into a wrestling match. Jesse manages to yank the chair out from under her and falls into it, grabbing the armrests to stake his claim. Lena plops down on top of him rather than admit defeat. Then they both look down at the crushed remains of their coffee cups on the ground, victims of the battle. Jesse pokes Lena in the side. “You owe me another coffee.”

“You started it!”

Fareeha rolls her eyes and hands Lena an enormous thermos while Ana passes them some mugs. “Yes,” Fareeha says to Ana and Reinhardt. “They’re always like this.”

“You just met me today,” Jesse says as he snatches the first newly poured cup of coffee out of Lena’s hands. She sticks her tongue out at him.

“I know what I said.” Fareeha deadpans as Reinhardt and her mother laugh. 

“Some things are just natural,” Ana says, the tattoo around her eye crinkling with her sly smile. “Did you two meet at school or did you come to UCLA together?”

“We met in Physics class,” Lena says, taking a drink straight from the thermos and hugging it to her chest when Jesse tries to grab it. 

“Lena!”

She flaps a hand at him as she takes another sip. Reinhardt chuckles and picks up another thermos, pointing to a stash of at least six. “Do not worry, my friend. There will be no shortage of coffee under my watch.”

“I told you there would be caffeine,” Fareeha says she gets up to help Reinhardt unload some coolers. 

“That means this one’s mine,” Lena holds her thermos out of Jesse’s reach, digging an elbow into his stomach to hold him back. “I’ve claimed it.”

Jesse scoffs. “Like I’m afraid of your spit, woman.”

Ana smiles warmly at them. “Well, you two make a very cute couple.”

Jesse chokes on his coffee as Lena bursts out laughing. “Oh no, ma’am, we’re not together like that,” she says while Jesse tries to convince his lungs to work again. “I’m gay as a maypole and I’m pretty sure Jesse is too. Besides, my girlfriend Emily would have a right bit to say to me if I ever picked up with a cowboy.” She snatches Jesse’s hat off his head and drops it onto her wild hair.

“She says as she steals my hat,” Jesse grouses, still coughing. 

Reinhardt grins at Lena as he passes around paper plates. “I think it is very becoming.” She gives him a sunny smile.

“My mistake,” Ana says as she leans over to pound Jesse on the back. He nods at her and clears his throat.

“No harm done,” he says. “I guess we are a lot more friendly than you’d expect from people who just met. Lena’s somehow become the other annoyin’ little sister I never knew I had.”

“Little?” Lena squawks, clutching her stolen thermos. “Are you even older than me, mate?”

Jesse shrugs. “It’s the attitude, not the age. And how d’you know I’m gay, anyhow?”

Lena gives Jesse’s discarded coffee cup from the shop a significant look and waggles her eyebrows. “Just a hunch.”

Jesse groans. Fareeha gives him a knowing smile and winks but takes pity on him. She waves her plate, piled high with what looks like an egg casserole, and says, “Grab what you’d like to eat whenever you want it. But don’t wait too long or Reinhardt will have eaten it all.” That spurs Lena to jump off Jesse’s lap and go for the food while Reinhardt laughs, shaking his head at Fareeha.

“So you have a sister?” Ana asks Jesse as the others scavenge the offerings.

“Yes’m. Well, foster sister, more like. Kind of.” Ana raises an eyebrow and makes an encouraging hum. “My adoptive dad dragged Sombra home off the street a year ago or so. She’s a permanent placement with him now. So yeah, sister. Just not in the way everyone else would expect.” Jesse shrugs.

“Family is family no matter what others see,” Ana says with a decisive nod. She takes the mug of tea that Reinhardt hands her and cradles it as he sits down next to her with his own plate of food.

Jesse smiles broadly at her. “Yeah. My mom died when I was a kid, so I lived with my abuela until my tío—my uncle,” he says when Lena gives him a confused look, “got home from the army and adopted me officially. It’s only been about six years, I think. But I can’t imagine bein’ anywhere else.”

“Mom, let Jesse get some food or he’s never going to join us again,” Fareeha cuts in as Ana opens her mouth. “And then Lena would be sad. Do you want to make Lena sad?” Lena smacks Fareeha as she flops into the empty seat next to her and Jesse laughs.

“It’s alright,” Jesse says. He gets up to get breakfast now that he’s had enough coffee to wake him and his stomach up. “I don’t mind talkin’ about my family. They’re great. Bat-shit crazy, but great.”

They pass the rest of the morning easily, Ana and Reinhardt trying to one up each other with more and more outrageous stories from their own army days. Their teasing gets so out of hand Lena falls out of her chair with laughter and Jesse’s face hurts from smiling too much. Fareeha clinks her coffee mug with Lena’s thermos as they toast their own future in the Air Force ROTC program. 

“And what are you going into, Jesse?” Ana asks, handing him a muffin. 

“Haven’t decided yet,” he says. He shoves a bite into his mouth to avoid further comment and the conversation moves on. He’s not quite ready to talk about what he is thinking of declaring just yet. Hell, he hasn’t even mentioned it to Gabe. He tells himself it can wait some more and refills his coffee cup.

Eventually the crowd starts streaming into the stadium so they begin packing up. Ana and Reinhardt wave off their help, sending them along to get decent seats in the student section. Jesse once again has to hang onto Lena to keep up with Fareeha as she pushes through the gate and up into the bleachers.

Jesse watches the teams warming up on the field and turns to Lena. “Any idea what’s goin’ on here?” Lena shakes her head.

“Seriously, you two.” Fareeha rolls her eyes at them. “Football is not that complicated.”

“No, it’s not,” Lena replies cheerfully. “But this isn’t football. You yanks have got it all wrong.”

Jesse laughs as Fareeha rolls her eyes. “Even you?” she asks him. He shrugs. 

“Seriously,” she says, making a show of her disappointment. “Six points for getting the ball into the end zone, three points for kicking it through the uprights, unless it’s immediately after a touchdown. Then it’s one point. We want the team in blue to win. Anything else I’ll try to explain as we go.” Jesse and Lena both stare at her blankly and she sighs. “Just watch. It’ll make sense eventually or I’ll find new friends.”

“Oi!” Lena punches her on the shoulder and Jesse gives her a thumbs up. Then he steals his hat back off Lena’s head.

Hours later, Jesse decides he’s been converted to the art of tailgating. Sitting around with good friends, good food, and plenty of coffee is something that he can get behind even if it happens before noon on a Saturday. Football, on the other hand, is something he still has to agree with Lena on. At least Fareeha had done a decent job explaining things in between shouting matches, both at the plays on the field and with rowdy students around them who apparently didn’t see things the way Fareeha did. And they’d beaten Hawaii, infecting the crowd with a jubilant air. 

Jesse heads back to his dorm with a bounce in his step to catch a nap before meeting back up with everyone for dinner, which Reinhardt and Ana insist is tradition. Starting today. 

He breezes through his door to find Hanzo sitting cross-legged on his own bunk, enormous textbook balanced on his lap and one of Gabe’s cookies in hand. Jesse manages to cover his momentary brain freeze this time and grins up at him. Hanzo gives him a nod.

“Ain’t those somethin’ else?” he asks as he tosses his hat onto his desk. 

“They are very good. Thank you for sharing,” Hanzo says, lowering his gaze back to his book. 

Jesse gets halfway up his ladder when the thought strikes. “Hey,” he says. Hanzo glances at him without raising his head. “A bunch of us are goin’ to dinner tonight. Is that somethin’ you’d be interested in?”

Hanzo stares at him for a minute and Jesse wonders if this is what it’s like for him whenever Jesse has one of his brain crash episodes. Finally Hanzo clears his throat. “No, thank you.” Jesse shrugs and heaves himself onto his bed. He’s about to drift off when he hears Hanzo say softly, “though I appreciate the invitation.”

Jesse smiles into his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> ¿Clase de corte? - Cutting class?
> 
> ¿Necesita agarrar algo de su casillero? - Do you need to grab anything from your locker?
> 
> Lo tengo todo. - I’ve got everything.
> 
>  
> 
> And we're back! We're trying to stay a chapter or two ahead of what we post, so the update schedule is more like an "update schedule". We just wanted to let you know since apparently people are enjoying this thing? It blows our minds, seriously.
> 
> Quick warning for future reference: Jack's job experiences will be based on Rochnariel's actual job as a paramedic, this is her place to relieve a little stress. We're going to try to not get too graphic but we will warn ahead of every instance just in case. Most of it won't be plot dependent, so feel free to skip those parts if you'd prefer.
> 
> Again, thank you for all the love, people. You have no idea how happy this makes us. Dualmode: that cake sounds phenomenal and we haven't stopped smiling yet from your comments. We might end up having Gabe try his hand at that recipe too (we certainly want to). Fun fact, his chocolate chip cookies are actually Rochnariel's family recipe that she actively had to steal from her dad. They're affectionately called crack cookies around here.


	7. damn good coffee

The last few minutes of a class have a way of stretching into eternity. Jesse fights down yet another yawn as he glances at the clock. He could swear the minute hand hasn't moved at all from the last five times he's checked.

The professor is hell bent on cramming at least three more lectures' worth into the next five minutes. Jesse wonders if nobody told her she'd have all semester to talk their ears off. Or maybe, he thinks with dread, she's planning to cram a few years’ worth of content into one semester. His stomach sinks at the thought. How much could there possibly be to English Comp anyway?

All she's doing is making it harder for the class to follow her now. Jesse wonders if he shouldn't record the lectures and play them later at half speed to even understand her. He glances to his left and sees the girl next to him frowning deeply at her notebook, scratching out every other word she writes. 

He leans over once the professor calls it quits. "You alright there?"

The girl looks up, shoving her blonde bangs out of her eyes. "I don't know," she sighs. "I must have missed half of what she said by the end. Do you think it will be in our book?"

Jesse shrugs. "She seems intent on goin' above and beyond. Wanna borrow my notes? I think I got most of it."

"Oh, ja. Danke," she says, holding out a delicate hand for a formal shake. "I am Angela."

"Jesse," he says. "C'mon, I'll make you a copy." They chat idly as they find the nearest scanner. Angela admits to skipping the football game, shyly revealing she’s much more interested in ‘real football’. She's rabid about Everton and Jesse has to smile. "You should drop by our study group sometime. My friend's a ragin' West Ham fan, she has some backroad unlicensed feed up on her laptop from time to time."

Angela squints at him. "Does she know the Premier League is televised in the United States these days?"

"Yeah," Jesse says. "I think she likes to feel like she's gettin' away with something." 

"Fair enough," Angela shrugs. They go their separate ways with a wave and Jesse ambles out into the mid afternoon sunshine. 

He yawns again as he starts heading back to his dorm. Maybe a little caffeine boost wouldn’t hurt, especially with his plans for tonight. He’s got plenty of time to grab some coffee, drop off his stuff, and still make the bus. And it just so happens the little place he’s started staking out as his new favorite study spot is on the way: Hanzo’s coffee shop.

It’s damn good coffee and a quiet place to work. That’s all. No other reason.

He pushes the door open and can't help a flash of disappointment when he sees Mei alone at the counter. He covers it with a smile and ambles up to her. "Howdy, ma'am."

Mei giggles and hands him his usual cup. "Hello, Jesse! Long night planned?”

“Somethin’ like that,” he says. “Gonna head home for dinner with my family.”

“Oh,” Mei startles. “But how will you…” Jesse raises an eyebrow. Mei reddens. “You are not from Texas?”

“Nope. Live here in Pasadena. It’s alright,” he chuckles as she begins apologizing. “Everybody thinks that. Though it’s hard to imagine why.” He winks.

She gives him a rueful smile. “Well, I hope you enjoy it.” 

“Thanks,” he says and waves as he heads out the door. He walks back to the dorm trying to pretend he hadn’t been hoping to catch a glimpse of Hanzo at the shop. If Jesse can’t find him there, who knows where he could be. Certainly nowhere near Jesse.

This means he’s completely unprepared to shove open his door and find Hanzo settled in at his desk. Jesse trips over the threshold in his surprise and loses his grip on his bag. It hits the floor with a crash and heavy textbooks spill across the floor. Hanzo spins around in time to witness Jesse lunge to catch one of them and slam his toes into a dresser. 

“Ah, shit,” Jesse shakes out his foot as Hanzo slowly slides his headphones down from his ears. “Fuckin’ hell.”

“Are you alright?” Hanzo asks.

“Yeah,” Jesse says, flapping a hand in his direction. “Just fine, don’t mind me. Sorry to interrupt.”

“It is nothing,” Hanzo says, rising to collect a couple of the books that had slid over to his side of the room. He sets them on Jesse’s desk as Jesse drops the rest down beside them. “Though you may wish to consider actually zipping your bag closed in the future.”

“Thanks,” Jesse smiles sheepishly at him as he sweeps his hat off and tosses it onto the book stack. He picks out one from the pile and slides it back into his bag. “Hey, I’m probably gonna be late gettin’ in tonight. I’ll try to be quiet.”

Hanzo inclines his head as he sits back down. “Do not concern yourself. It will not bother me.”

Jesse leans back against his own desk. “I’d hate to wake you, is all. You don’t seem the type to like sleepin’ in.” Jesse is a veteran night owl, and most evenings Hanzo doesn’t stop studying until he’s about to turn in himself. Yet he still never sees Hanzo in the mornings. He’s started wondering if Hanzo sleeps much at all. “I’m just not sure what time it’ll be—“

“I said, it is no bother,” Hanzo snaps, turning his head to give Jesse a sharp look. Jesse raises his hands instinctively.

“Okay, I gotcha,” he says. He looks away and gets an eye full of the pages spread across Hanzo’s desk. One on top contains what looks like an unfinished line drawing, the swooping whorls of blue and black ink graceful even though the subject isn’t yet clear. “Hey, that’s real nice—“

Hanzo slaps a hand on a notebook and shoves it on top of the drawing. 

“Alright,” Jesse says, folding his arms and slumping his shoulders. “I can take a hint.”

Hanzo sits still for a moment before he sighs. He turns slowly in his chair and folds his legs beneath him. “I apologize.”

Jesse perks up. “No worries. I didn’t mean to pry or anythin’.”

Hanzo looks away. “I am…not used to showing such frivolous things to others.”

Jesse tilts his head. “Didn’t look frivolous to me. What’s it going to be?”

Hanzo hesitates. He then slides the unfinished drawing out and shyly offers it to Jesse. “They will be dragons.”

“Well now,” Jesse says, taking the paper like it’s a priceless gift and perusing each artful line. “I think it’s lovely. You not happy with how it’s turnin’ out?”

“It is a waste of time,” Hanzo says, folding his arms tightly across his muscled chest. It sounds like he’s repeating something he’s heard many times before.

“Hey,” Jesse says gently. “If it’s something you want to do, it’s no waste of time in my book. I think you’ve really got somethin’ here.”

Hanzo stares at him. Then he takes the paper back from Jesse and shoves it under the notebook again. But his fingers linger over it for a moment and Jesse smiles. “Life can’t be all work all the time, you know. Gotta do something you enjoy now and then or you’ll burn out quick.”

“Yes,” Hanzo says slowly, opening a thick textbook on top of the notebook to further bury the drawing. “Perhaps you are right.” Jesse waits for him to continue but it seems he’s done talking. So Jesse lumbers to his feet and hefts his lightened backpack onto his shoulder. 

“Well, I better take off,” he says. He slaps his hat back over his mussed up hair. “See you later.” Hanzo inclines his head and turns back to his book so Jesse heads out of the room. Mako and Jamie are coming down the hall, leaving no room for passersby so he waits for his neighbors to enter their dorm. Jamie tosses him a cheerful salute as he clatters by and Jesse nods back. 

The path now clear, he ambles downstairs into the late afternoon sunshine. Jesse can’t stop thinking about that work in progress, and the way Hanzo acted like he’d been caught out doing something he shouldn’t. Hanzo’s gift for drawing is a surprise to Jesse, his talent undeniable. But how’d he get the idea using it to create pretty things like dragon pictures was doing something wrong? Jesse sighs to himself and tries his best to shake off the look of Hanzo’s elegant features scrunched into uncertainty. He’s got a bus to catch.

The ride is painfully boring. He does his best to focus on the music in his headphones over the roar of the bus engine, propping his physics textbook up on his knees to get some studying in for tomorrow’s quiz. LA traffic is a shit show on a good day and he’s in for a long ride. He’s just lucky his last class on Thursday lets out early so he can dodge the worst of rush hour.

Jesse finally strolls through the back door and into a flurry of Spanish shouting that echoes into the kitchen from the front of the house. Genji looks up from his book at the island and doesn't seem the least bit surprised to see him. "Hello, Jesse," he grins.

"Howdy," Jesse says, dropping his bag onto the bench by the door. "Sounds like I'm just in time for the fireworks." He whistles sharply and not a minute later, Peacekeeper charges into the kitchen and leaps up against him. Jesse laughs as he vigorously ruffles the dog's sleek fur, trying in vain to dodge the slobbery tongue.

The shouting pauses long enough for Gabe to stick his head into the kitchen. He smirks when he catches sight of Jesse. "Couldn't even last a month, huh?"

"Feed me, I'm starvin' to death," Jesse says, crouching down to rub Peacekeeper’s ribs. "You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Genji pretends to perk up. "I would get your room though, right?"

Gabe rolls his eyes. "You've already pretty much claimed it," he says as Jesse squawks in protest. 

"The hell's goin' on around here anyhow?" Jesse asks, trying to stay balanced on his toes as his dog rolls back and forth. "What happened now?"

Gabe scowls and drops an assortment of power cords onto the island countertop. Jesse rises to inspect them—or rather, what's left of them. Each cord has been neatly chewed in half, the pieces pocked with perfect little teeth marks. Jesse raises his eyebrows at Gabe while Genji clamps a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. "Sombra's damn cat," Gabe growls.

"He got my cords, too," Sombra grouses as she walks in behind them. "Don't act like you're the only victim here."

"Try controlling your menace next time," Gabe says, sweeping the cords violently into the trash.

Sombra gives him a disdainful look. "I want you to think very hard about 'control' and 'cat' in the same thought. Besides, you bought him."

"I lost an entire post thanks to him," Gabe says, grabbing the container of rice and slamming it on the counter.

"You didn't save?" Jesse takes the wok out of Sombra's hands and shoos her away from the stove before she can burn dinner by just being near it. She huffs and goes to sit next to Genji.

"I didn't know my damn battery was about to die. It looked like it was plugged in!" 

The cat in question strolls into the kitchen next, rubbing up against Gabe’s leg a few times before weaving between them. He sits down on top of Gabe’s foot just as he notices the dog in the room. Reaper immediately leaps to his feet, scratching Gabe’s shoe, and sprints over to Peacekeeper. He swats him once across the nose and turns tail, prompting Peacekeeper to give chase. Reaper leaps for high ground and lays down on top of the table, looking down his nose at the dog. 

Jesse shares a baleful look with Peacekeeper as he down lays by the table to await Reaper’s next move. He turns to Gabe, who’s swearing in Spanish under his breath at the cat. "You thought about trainin' Keep to chase him off things you don't want him gettin' into?"

Gabe glares at him. "Don't get me started on your mangy mutt."

"Uh oh," Jesse bites his lip. "What'd he do?"

"Decided to pursue a career in interior redecorating," Genji says, turning a page he's clearly not reading.

"Huh?"

"Go look at the couch," Sombra says.

Jesse swallows and glances at Gabe's thunderous look. "Think I'd rather not know." He takes a cutting board and the vegetables Gabe throws at him to the island to get out of Gabe's way, knowing the only way the two of them can cook together is when they're each on opposite sides of the kitchen and aren’t looking closely at what the other is doing. He leans close to Genji. "Is he bored? How much for you to run him every day?"

"You can't afford me," Genji says serenely. He waves at Sombra. "Ask her." Sombra gives Genji an incredulous look that has to be a perfect match to the one Jesse aims at him. Genji laughs and puts on a martyred expression. "The things I do for you people."

Jesse winks at him, taking his vegetable pieces over to where Gabe is aggressively shoving strips of beef around in the wok. "Hopefully that'll help."

Gabe gives him a mock surprised look. "You mean you're not taking him back to the dorm?"

"If I could, I would," Jesse says.

Gabe chuckles. "Well, at least I know what my next post will be about for sure."

Dinner is a warm and comfortingly loud affair, something Jesse has missed like a limb the past few weeks. The cafeteria is loud, but it’s not the same chaotic quality of family dinner in his own circus of a household. He listens to Sombra complain about her history teacher and can’t help feeling like there's more to the story. But he knows she won't thank him for prying beyond what she chooses to share. Besides, if Gabe's white knuckled grip on his fork is any indication, she's already got a heavyweight in her corner. Jesse's happy she feels comfortable enough to rant about her troubles in the safety of the homey kitchen.

Jesse helps Gabe with the dishes—the one kitchen chore they don't argue technique over—as the other two go back to their homework or, more likely in Genji’s case, the video game console. It might be just a normal no frills evening at the house but Jesse feels better than he has in days. "Zenyatta on the night shift this week?" he asks. 

Gabe nods. "Genji’ll probably stay the night, if you don't mind him in your room." Jesse rolls his eyes and Gabe laughs. "I didn't think so."

Jesse tosses the towel onto the counter and crouches down to give Peacekeeper a head rub. "Nice having a full house at night, huh?" he asks slyly. Gabe shoots him a dark look but Jesse just smiles. "Speakin' of," he says with a hopeful tone. "Mind drivin' me back to campus later? You need to run out for new chargers anyway, right?"

Gabe groans as Jesse laughs and heads into the living room to bother the other two.


	8. updraft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, kids. The fluff train's crashing into angst mountain.
> 
> Serious PSA though: if you see an ambulance running lights and sirens, move out of the way. Seriously. Fire engines and police cars too. Please.
> 
> Warning for Jack's job in this chapter. They get a cardiac arrest call, and if you'd rather not read about it skip to the paragraph that starts: "Jack stows their gear as Zenyatta comes out and gets into the passenger seat." Just know Jack's having a bad day.

Jack swears under his breath as he switches the siren to yelping and pulls right up to the bumper of the truck in front of him. The third night shift in a row is bad enough, but adding in assholes who somehow don’t notice the giant ambulance behind them makes him reconsider helping people for a living. Seriously, this is the fifth car tonight that cruises along without a care in the world right in front of an ambulance with flashing lights and blaring sirens. Are they really that hard to see? He doesn’t think so. And he’s the one with vision problems.

The truck finally notices them and pulls slowly over to let them by. Jack lets out a frustrated sigh and switches the siren back again. Zenyatta looks on, seemingly unperturbed by the people making their jobs harder tonight. Then again, Zenyatta always seems pretty calm about everything.

Sure, the call for chest pain could end up being nothing more than indigestion. But it could also be a heart attack, aortic aneurysm, uncontrolled angina. There are reasons for the lights and sirens. And it isn’t because paramedics are all adrenaline junkies that like driving fast. But just try telling that to some of the public.

Jack takes a deep breath and tries to shake off his irritation. The GPS directs them into a neighborhood now, so they must be close.

Zenyatta spots the lights from the fire engine further down the block and points Jack to the right house. They grab their jump kit, monitor, and drug box from the back and head to the door. Bastion meets them with a grim nod and leads them to a back bedroom.

Jack notices the firefighters in the room are doing CPR and has to reset his expectations. Absently, he realizes he doesn’t recognize the one doing compressions. She looks young, dreadlocks dyed bright green and falling around her broad shoulders to look oddly like horns. Jack blinks hard. He’s been up way too long.

“Okay, what’ve we got?” Jack asks as he and Zenyatta start working seamlessly. Zenyatta grabs the airway and Jack tries to start an IV, knowing one of the firefighters will swap in their monitor for the AED.

“Sixty nine year old male,” one of the other firefighters says. “Woke up to go to the bathroom at about three thirty am, according to his wife.” Jack takes a quick look around and notices the wife isn’t in the room. Good. “He was complaining that his chest felt funny, so she called nine-one-one after they argued about it for a bit. He collapsed about two minutes before we arrived. We started CPR three minutes ago, AED advised a shock one minute ago.”

Jack gives up looking for a vein and grabs the IO gun instead just as Zenyatta finishes intubating. Jack sees Bastion gesturing the new kid away as he gets ready to swap in for compressions. “No personal cardiac history according to the wife, but his father and brother both died of cardiac complications,” she says in a strong accent as she gets to her feet.

Once Zenyatta’s got the man intubated and Jack gets the IO in, Jack calls a halt and looks at the rhythm. V-fib. Damn it. “Clear,” he snaps and administers the shock. Bastion resumes compressions and Jack grabs for the drug box. Zenyatta takes over the monitor and the new kid snags the BVM from him.

They run the code for another thirty minutes, losing all discernible electrical activity twenty minutes in. After the thirty minute mark, Jack sits back on his heels. “Time of death, four twelve am.”

Everyone in the room ceases activity with an air of defeat. These calls are some of the worst for Jack. For them all, really. But Jack hates losing, especially when lives are in the balance. Even knowing he couldn’t change the outcome, he always feels like he should have been able to do more.

Zenyatta grips Jack’s shoulder as he closes up the drug box. Jack takes a moment to breathe before he starts packing up. He sees Zenyatta walk over to Bastion and the dejected new firefighter while he gathers his scattered supplies. The first time doing CPR is always hard, but Jack doesn’t think he’s in a state to be offering comforting words. He just wants to go home and sleep for a week. Besides, Zenyatta is much better at that sort of thing.

He does give the pair a tired nod as he heads out to the ambulance. Bastion whistles sadly.

Jack stows their gear as Zenyatta comes out and gets into the passenger seat. He bows his head solemnly as Jack turns the engine over but doesn’t say anything. The cab is quiet as they head to the hospital. Jack’s not sure if Zenyatta is meditating or trying to nap; it’s all he can do to focus on the road. 

He finally parks at the hospital hauls their depleted drug box inside. He looks around on the off chance Ana is lurking around a corner as they exchange the box. As infrequently as they see her while she’s on shift, she somehow has a knack for knowing when things go south like tonight. But this time she’s nowhere to be found. 

Zenyatta climbs into the driver’s seat when they return to the ambulance. He calls them in clear to dispatch as Jack slumps in his seat and rests his forehead against the window. Maybe the rest of their shift will be quiet.

Naturally, just as he’s finishing that wishful thought, his phone starts ringing. 

He's getting more mileage out of the damn thing in the last few weeks than he has in years. He fumbles into his pocket for it and scowls as he fishes it out. He glances at the display and his stomach drops like a stone.

It's Hana. Calling.

Hana never calls; she's a text or die kind of girl. And it’s five o’clock in the morning. Jack snaps the phone open so sharply he almost cracks it in half. "Hana?"

"Jack," she sobs. Anxiety sparks like a wildfire through Jack's chest. "Jack," she says again, hiccupping.

"Hana, what's wrong?"

"Can you..." Hana takes a deep, watery breath. "Can you come get me?" 

"Yes," Jack says immediately. "Where are you? Are you safe?"

"Yeah," Hana says. Her voice is very small. "I just...I..."

"Where are you, Hana?" he asks again, as gently as he can. "I'll come as soon as I can but I need to know where you are."

"The police department," she says. It takes everything Jack has to fight down the cresting wave of panic. Distantly, he hears Zenyatta call in to dispatch again to set their rig unavailable but Jack can't spare any ounce of focus. 

"Which one? Near your house?"

"Yeah, on—" Hana breaks off as another sob chokes her voice. "It's—it's gone, Jack. It's gone."

"What's gone? Hana—"

"My house," she says. "And they were...they were there, and—" The sounds on the other end of the line are suddenly muffled, but Jack can make out the gut wrenching sound of Hana crying mixed with another voice murmuring. The dread in his chest is making it hard to breathe and Jack grips the door handle so hard his knuckles creak. Zenyatta is quiet as he drives them back toward the station much faster than he should.

The call picks back up with the new voice. "Mr. Morrison?"

"Yes," he says tightly.

"My name is Samantha, I'm a social worker with the San Francisco Child Protective Services," the woman says. Jack can't hear Hana anymore in the background so she must have stepped away. "First, I want to tell you Hana is safe and unharmed. But last night there was an incident at her home, a house fire. Hana was at a sleepover elsewhere, but I'm sorry to say both her parents were home. There were no survivors."

"Oh my God," Jack whispers. 

"Mr. Morrison," Samantha continues. "I've been assigned to Hana's case and will be helping get her settled. She was adamant that we call you. May I ask if it's possible for you to come to collect her? I understand you live out of town. If you're not able to come we can place her in a temporary foster home."

"No," Jack says hoarsely. "No, I'm on my way. I'll be there in a few hours."

"Thank you," she says and gives him the address to the CPS office they’re moving to. He scribbles it onto his notepad and has to correct a few pen strokes. His hand is shaking. “We can sort out an official emergency placement once you get here. But in any case, Hana would benefit from seeing you.”

He hangs up and tries to take a deep breath. Zenyatta looks over as they pull into the deployment bay. He gently grabs Jack's wrist before he can lunge out the door and Jack looks sharply over his shoulder. 

"Are you alright to drive?" he asks. "I could assist." Jack takes in the dark circles under Zenyatta's eyes and the tired lines framing his normally placid face. He must be just as exhausted as Jack is and the offer warms him for a moment, especially knowing that Zenyatta has Genji to get home to. 

But all of Jack's military instincts are kicking in hard and he's nothing but focused now. "Thanks, but I’ll be fine."

Zenyatta nods and waves him on. "I'll handle the shift changeover and talk to the supervisor. We’re already cleared with dispatch. Go."

Jack flashes him a tight smile and throws himself out of the ambulance. He swings by his apartment to grab some essential supplies, shoving clothes and toiletries into a bag almost at random. He heads for the door but pauses on second thought, dashing back into the closet and grabbing his laptop bag too. He throws everything into the trunk, plugs the address Samantha gave him into the cut rate GPS hanging onto his dashboard by a thread, and guns the engine. 

Then it's six hours of white knuckled fear and driving like a maniac, all barely held in check by the laser focus he's holding onto by his fingertips. He has no idea how he doesn't get pulled over every two miles. Maybe that Star of Life sticker on his bumper is good for something after all.

By the time Jack pulls into the CPS office parking lot he's numb and running completely on autopilot. He drags himself through the door in a fog. But then he catches sight of Hana and it's like a firework finale erupts in his chest: horror, relief, heartache churning overtop one another and making him sick to his stomach.

Hana sits in a chair along one side of the wide hall, curled up so tightly he almost hadn't seen her. She has her arms and legs wrapped around the fluffy white bunny he’d sent her back when Yuna first told him they were expecting, her face buried in its ears. A woman sits sideways in the next chair, hand laid gently on her shoulder. Jack ignores her. He's got only one target in his sights.

Hana must hear his heavy boots because not three steps in she looks up and spots him. Her face is pale and her eyes are red, dark hair sprawling messily around her shoulders. She doesn't say a word, just throws herself out of the chair and Jack catches her mid-lunge. He wraps her up completely in his arms and she buries her face in his chest. They're both trembling as they stand there together for what feels like hours.

A cleared throat nearby startles Jack upright. He looks over to see the woman standing at his shoulder, head lowered to keep their conversation private. "Mr. Morrison?"

Jack tries to say yes but his throat is dry and the word lodges behind the lump in it. He nods instead, taking care not to hit Hana with his chin. 

"Samantha Green," she says. She holds out a hand but doesn't thrust it at him, letting him get to the handshake in his own time. He reaches over Hana's head to grasp it but doesn't let go of his goddaughter. “If you’ll follow me, we can move somewhere a little more comfortable.” 

Jack belatedly realizes they're blocking a good portion of hallway traffic. “Uh, right,” he says, gently herding Hana after her further into the building.

Samantha leads them to a quiet little room in the back. It’s some sort of meeting room designed with children in mind; the walls are splashed with bright colors and the floor space is crammed with a plush couch amid an infestation of bean bags chairs. A precarious stack of games defies gravity in one corner. Samantha gestures to the couch. "Perhaps we should sit down? We can start discussing some important details whenever you're ready."

Jack nods and steers Hana over, almost tripping over the cheerful pink backpack wedged in beside the couch. It’s a little awkward settling in while she maintains her death grip on his shirt but Jack manages to perch with enough angle to let her keep her face buried in his shoulder. 

“Great,” Samantha says as she sets the stuffed bunny down next to Hana and takes a step back. “I’m going to grab us some coffee.” She doesn’t wait for his nod before heading across the room to a small section of cabinets with a coffee maker and mini fridge, leaving them some semblance of privacy without letting Hana out of her sight. Jack spares a moment to be grateful Hana got such a woman for her case and then pushes her from his mind.

He gives Hana another minute to just sit curled up, reaching over to grab the bunny and set it in her lap. She immediately curls her right arm around it and sniffles loudly. “Hey,” he says, dipping his head to try to catch a look at her still too pale face. 

She sniffs again. “Hi,” she says.

That exhausts his repertoire so they sit in silence for another minute. Besides, what the hell do you say to somebody after this? It’s one thing to deliver bad news to a teammate’s family that knows the possibility is out there, and that’s hard enough. But this? Jack’s floundering. 

All he can do is hold on to her and let her do the same.

After a while, Samantha comes back over with a few flimsy paper cups balanced in her palms. She sets one down on the end table next to Hana and hands another to Jack. He nods to her and takes a sip, not tasting the watery coffee at all.

“So,” Samantha says, crossing her legs at her ankles as she sits down. “Mr. Morrison, I’m going to assume you’re planning to pursue custody? If you’re not interested in a long-term arrangement, I’ll need to know now. Foster care might be the better option if that’s—”

“No,” Jack snaps, then pauses to clear his throat. Hana shivers in his arms. “I want to. What do we need to do?”

Samantha nods. “We can get a court appointment set for tomorrow afternoon to discuss placement, if that works for you. In the morning we’ll need you to complete a few evals, jump through a couple hoops. Most of that will be paperwork. The trial is the real hurdle.”

“Okay,” Jack says. “Yeah, I’ll be in town for as long as this takes. That’s all fine with me.”

“Hana will be staying with a foster family tonight—“ Jack snaps his head up but Samantha holds up a hand. “Just until you’re officially awarded custody. That’s all squared away.”

“Oh. Right.” He tightens his grip a little anyway as Hana shifts against him, bringing the stuffed animal back up so she can bury her face in it again.

“Hey, Hana?” Samantha turns to her. She peeks one eye out. “It’s getting a little late, are you hungry?”

Shit, lunch. He should have thought of that. Jack frowns to himself. He’s already fucking up this guardian thing and he hasn’t even gotten started. 

But Hana shakes her head sharply. “No,” she mumbles into the white fluff. 

Samantha subsides without a fight. “Okay, maybe later.” 

They sit together in silence again for a while, Samantha shuffling through some paperwork as Jack and Hana cling to each other. Eventually Hana worms her way upright out of his grip and mumbles something.

“Huh?” Jack asks.

“Gotta go to the bathroom,” she says again, sliding off the couch. She heads out into the hall, feet dragging and shoulders still slumped. Jack watches her until she disappears before he turns to Samantha and eyes her expectantly.

She sighs and shuts her folder. “Hana was spending the night at a friend’s house. Around five in the morning the cops tracked her down with the help of a neighbor, since they could only find two people in the house after they put out the fire.”

Jack scowls, shoving his glasses up his nose. “Hell of a way to find out something like this.”

Samantha nods, but she doesn’t seem as perturbed as Jack is. He figures she sees a lot more of the fallout from a situation like this than he does. He’s usually out once the present victims have been treated. This is a whole new side for him—and so much the worse for being personal.

“The closest relative that could make a claim on her is her mother’s sister, who lives in Indiana,” Samantha says. Jack nods. He knows that side of the family well, having grown up alongside them. In fact, he and Yuna had fled that damn town at the same time: her to the farthest full ride she could snag, him to the Army. And somehow they’d never lost touch, no matter where in the world he’d been stationed.

The one thing he’s sure of is that Yuna wouldn’t want her daughter shipped off to that backwater excuse for civilization. Hana’s staying with him.

“We weren’t able to contact her,” Samantha continues. “Looks like she’s on a long-term visit in South Korea, so you’re really the only option right now.”

“I’d be here no matter what,” Jack says, shifting in his chair to keep an eye on the hall. “Do they know…” He has to pause to clear his throat again. “Do they know what caused the fire?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure,” Samantha says. “I can give you the contact info for the investigation.”

Jack heaves a deep breath and tries not to think about it. “Thanks.”

They get a few forms out of the way, Jack switching Hana to his left side once she returns to keep an arm around her as he writes. Samantha tries actively handing Hana a prepackaged sandwich but Hana just shoves her face into Jack’s shirt again. He shrugs one shoulder at Samantha and she just nods sadly. 

But when Samantha goes to draw Hana away to take her to the foster home for the night, Hana puts up an unexpected fight. It startles Jack after the entire afternoon she’s spent curled up against him barely saying three words together. Though in retrospect, he should have seen this coming.

“No!” Hana shrieks, yanking her hand away from Samantha. “I’m not going!”

“Hana,” Samantha starts, the picture of patience. 

“I’ll stay here if I have to,” Hana says, hiccupping. Her eyes are watering again. 

“Hana,” Jack says, tilting her chin up to look her in the eye. “How’s this? Any time the urge strikes, text me or call or whatever. All night if you want. I don’t care if it’s three am. You text, I’ll answer. Deal?”

Hana stares at him, searching his face. He knows the odds are good Hana logically understands nothing will happen to him overnight while she’s elsewhere. He also knows this outburst has nothing to do with logic. Fear is a fickle thing.

Finally, she gives him a hesitant nod. “Any time?”

“Any time,” he says. 

He can see the moment some of the tension leaks out of her shoulders. She takes a deep breath and he gives her an encouraging smile, one that feels far too flimsy to help. But she gives him a wet and subdued one back and hauls her backpack over her shoulder like it’s the weight of the world. He solemnly hands her the stuffed animal and she sighs. “See you in the morning?” She says it like a question.

Jack nods firmly. “First thing.”

Hana follows Samantha out of the station with no further protest and Jack slumps back onto the couch like a puppet with cut strings. He drops his head in his hands and tries to take a deep breath of his own. He gives himself five minutes to panic silently before he leaves the office in search of a more private place to have a long overdue breakdown.

A thought occurs as he’s checking into the first cheap hotel room he can find. He drops his bag and laptop onto the rickety bed and calls Zenyatta.

His partner answers on the first ring. “Hello, Jack.”

“Hey,” Jack says, trying to keep his voice even. “I should have checked in, did the rest of the shift go okay?”

“Do not concern yourself,” Zenyatta says. “I spoke with our supervisor and he was very understanding. You are not expected back on call until our next shift Thursday evening.”

Jack sags against the wall. “Oh, wow. Thanks.” He takes a deep breath and Zenyatta lets him collect his thoughts. “Yeah, I’m probably going to be up here until then.”

“Of course,” Zenyatta says. Jack can see him nodding serenely in his mind’s eye. “Let me know if there is anything you need.”

“Thanks,” Jack says again awkwardly. He hangs up before any further offers or platitudes can follow, though Zenyatta had likely been done anyway. 

Jack still feels somewhat nauseous but knows he needs to eat something. He grabs a handful of granola bars from a vending machine and calls it good. Then he tries to knock out as much research as he can about what to expect from tomorrow’s evaluations and meetings. 

He fields three texts from Hana before she reports she’s being sent to bed and he glances at the clock in surprise. The digital numbers blur and Jack scrubs a hand across his aching eyes, dislodging his glasses. Long days like this used to be so much easier to handle, back when his eyes still worked and didn’t fuck up his head under stress, before—nope. Not going there tonight. Jack slides his computer off his lap and stumbles to his feet. He takes a quick shower to clear his head, answers another text from Hana, and tries to settle down to sleep himself. 

He gives up after half an hour of tossing and turning, grabbing his laptop again. He’s so exhausted that he’s crossed some sort of threshold and is completely wired. No point trying to sleep even though his eyes are burning.

It’s just starting to sink in, in that fugue zone that comes over him after being awake for well over twenty four hours, that he’s signing up to be a parent. To be responsible for Hana not just for a lunch outing or a sleepover or even for the next few days. For the rest of her life. 

Panic is an understatement at this point. But really, what choice does he have?

He starts collecting every parenting site and advice blog he can find, scrolling frantically from one cutesy proverb to the next happy anecdote with bright cheerful colors and scowling at the screen. None of this helps. Isn’t there anything for washed up losers in way over their heads like him? 

He’s just about to throw his laptop across the room in frustration when he finds it. It’s unassuming, the color scheme dark. The title seems to be in Spanish, but the blog itself is mostly in English. The tagline is what catches his eye: ‘If you find this blog helpful as a parent, there’s something wrong with you.’ 

Jack can’t help it; he laughs. 

The most recent entry is a full blown rant about the importance of never giving in to sad puppy eyes from either kid or pet, especially when it comes to adding more pets. Jack finds himself grinning as he scans the post through to the grouchy end. This. This is exactly what he needs. 

He reads entry after entry until his vision blurs and he can’t stay awake anymore. Somehow he feels a little better already, and sleep actually comes this time.


	9. really bad ideas, ill-fitting suits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, you guys, _Uprising_. We're sorry for the delay but if we don't get those Blackwatch skins we're going to fucking die (@blizzard yo).

Gabe tosses back the dregs of his third cup of coffee and stares resolutely down at the court brief in front of him. He tries to read the opening lines but his eyes skitter off the page. Again. He shifts in his chair, toys with a pen between his fingers, and takes a deep breath. He refocuses on the page and tries to force himself to read it.

No dice. Why do they make these things so boring anyway?

Gabe leans back in his chair and heaves a sigh. It would be one thing if he were on a deadline, but for once he has absolutely nothing he needs to get done. This brief isn't even related to his cases. He just picked it up to stay appraised of office goings-on because he's bored. So incredibly bored. And he's trying to keep himself occupied so he doesn't give in to the urge to do something he knows he shouldn't.

He's learned his lesson after all, hasn't he? He even wrote a damn post about it. Adding fuel to the fire is not going to help, he knows this. And yet.

Gabe glances sidelong over to his monitor, where tab after tab of research about the care and feeding of ferrets sit innocuously open. He really needs to stop facilitating his own misery. But maybe this time doesn't count? It's not like the damn thing would be in the house. Genji might be over a lot, due to Zenyatta's odd and hectic work hours, but he doesn't actually live at Gabe's. 

Gabe starts reaching for the mouse before he shakes his head sharply, shoving his hands under his thighs and sitting on them. No, he tells himself. No ferrets. No matter how much it would surprise Genji, since he's almost certain the kid's forgotten about his request by now. It’d probably just been a joke anyway. 

Gabe frowns down at the brief that he's no longer seeing at all. Come to think of it, Genji does have a tendency to linger by ferret cages when they pass pet stores. And, according to Sombra's teasing, even has one of those tumble blog things made up mostly of ferrets doing funny things and looking cute. 

Gabe wars with himself internally before grabbing his phone.

> sent << Has Genji ever asked you about getting a pet?

He pulls the brief back in front of him and grabs a highlighter, having satisfied the urge to do something for the moment. Maybe if he can poke the papers and make them colorful as he reads it'll hold his attention.

He's still rereading the opening paragraph for the second time when his phone buzzes.

> Zenyatta >> He has indeed. I believe he has a great interest in ferrets. However, with our schedules it never seemed wise. Ferrets take a lot of work.  
>  Zenyatta >> I know he is disappointed but he seems to understand. Has he mentioned it to you?

Gabe stares at his phone. No. Oh, no.

> sent << Not seriously, just in passing as a joke I think. Just curious.

Gabe drops his phone onto the desk and slaps a hand over his eyes. Genji is _not his kid._

A sharp knock on his door frame draws him out of his thoughts. "What," he growls without removing the hand over his face. 

A low chuckle filters into his ears. "Someone seems to be having a good day," Amélie says.

Gabe sits bolt upright and leans forward. "Tell me you have something for me."

"Perhaps. But I am not so sure, I was looking forward to filing all of these delightful investigation reports myself. They are quite riveting." She shrugs, lifting the folder tucked into her elbow. "I almost hate to give them up."

"Hand them over," he snaps, reaching towards the folder and making grabbing gestures. 

She smirks and steps around his desk to dump the folder in front of him. "You are that bored? Incroyable."

"I need something real to do, I'm going stir crazy. All I've got are old court files and looking up—uh. Never mind." 

She blinks at him, then slides her gaze over to his monitor. That somehow hasn't entered screensaver mode yet. Where all of his tabs are proudly on display. Amélie turns back to give him her best incredulous stare. "Non."

"I'm not," he snaps, hastily turning the screen off. "It's just research! I told you I'm bored."

"You are absurd," she says, putting her hands on her hips. "Is your house not enough of a circus for you as it is? I cannot believe you."

"I'm not getting a ferret!" Gabe says, crossing his arms.

"You say this," Amélie tilts her head and raises an eyebrow. "But you and I know the truth, chérie."

"Out," he says and scowls at her. 

She laughs and shakes her head. "See if I bring you anything else to do," she says, waving an airy hand as she takes her leave. Gabe huffs and grabs the folder, spilling its contents across his desk. But then he hesitates, reaching over to turn his monitor back on. 

All of his research, chock full of damnably cute ferret pictures, greets him like nothing happened. Gabe glowers at it and drops his face in his hands. Some days he can't believe himself either.

\---

Turns out adrenaline only goes so far.

Jack stumbles out of his last meeting with the CPS psychologist, eighth cup of coffee clenched between white knuckled fingers. His right hand aches and his wrist feels like it's about to fall off, so he tries shaking it out to dispel the tingling sensation. They must have leveled a forest to get the paper for all the forms this case requires. Jack's name doesn't even look real to him anymore.

So far they seem to think he's sane. Jack has no idea how he’s managed to present that image; he can barely walk in a straight line at the moment. But he's not about to question it.

He checks his watch: just over half an hour before he has to collect Hana from her child psychologist appointment and get over to the courthouse. And after that maybe they can finally take a fucking nap.

Jack shuffles to his car to pick up some early lunch for the two of them. Something about the afternoon docket is bugging him but he can't put his finger on it. He tries to shrug it off, backing carefully out of the parking space and weighing their options. He's not familiar with the area and it won't do him any good to get lost chasing down something of actual quality and nutritional value. They might have to make do with fast food, especially since the tight time limit won't give them a lot of time to change—

Jack slams the brakes at the red light in front of him and claps a hand to his forehead. That's what's bugging him. Change into what? He didn’t think to bring a suit.

Come to think of it, Hana won't have anything nice on her either, considering—

Jack shakes his head sharply and turns into the next Walmart he finds. He goes for the first cheap dark suit in reach and swings through the girls' section. What's Hana size again? He growls to himself and texts her but she doesn't respond immediately, probably still busy being psychoanalyzed. He doesn't have time to wait.

He tries to eyeball a nice pair of dark pants and a plain blouse, remembering at least to grab the pink one. Hopefully they'll do.

He makes it back to the CPS office just as Hana emerges from her meeting room, engrossed in her phone. She frowns and looks up as he stops in front of her, turning her phone around to show him the unread message on the screen. “Sorry, missed your text.”

Jack shrugs. “That’s okay. I hope these fit.” He thrusts the pile of clothes into her arms and she has to juggle them to keep from dropping her phone. Hana stares at the blouse, pinching the corner of one sleeve between thumb and forefinger as she raises one slow eyebrow. “What?” he asks. “It’s pink, right?”

Hana giggles. “I mean, yeah. Can’t argue with that.” She shrugs, hugging the clothes to her chest. “They’re just so…boring.”

Jack rolls his eyes so hard he almost sprains something. “I wasn’t going for style—“

“Obviously,” Hana snorts but she’s grinning. He opens his mouth but she flaps a hand at him and turns for the rest room. “Hey, no. This is good. Thanks.”

“Provided they fit,” Jack says. “Oh, hey. This’ll have to do for lunch, we’ll get real food after this is over. Okay?” He tosses her the energy bars and water bottle he’d grabbed at the checkout. 

Hana adds them to the bundle in her arms. “This is what you call lunch? Nice.”

“Only today,” Jack says. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Get the chocolate ones next time,” she says over her shoulder as she goes to change.

“One time thing!” Jack shouts after her, making a mental note to immediately revise his own eating habits. It’s one thing for him to subsist on peanut butter sandwiches, but he’s not going to do that to Hana. There’s just the glaring little detail that he can’t cook to save his life. Maybe he should take some lessons?

Jack spares a moment as he enters the other rest room to shiver at the thought of being in the kitchen with Reinhardt. He knows his friend is more than willing to share his knowledge; he’s offered before. But Jack can’t imagine being in a confined space with sharp knives, open flame, and Reinhardt’s boisterous gestures. Jack knows he’s more than capable of producing a fantastic, if very traditionally German, meal. But he has no idea how it happens.

Jack shrugs the issue off for now, trying to smooth wrinkles out of the thin suit as he pulls it on. He’s thankful that his work boots are at least black and sort of blend in; he didn’t even think to grab shoes. He wrangles the tie into some semblance of a knot as he heads back into the hall to wait for Hana.

Samantha comes into the hallway talking to someone on her phone just as Hana steps out to stand beside Jack. The blouse hangs off her shoulders, belt cinched tightly to hold the pants in place. “Shit,” he mutters.

“It’s okay,” Hana says. She smiles sadly at the collar as she tugs it straight. “It’s better than nothing, you know?”

Jack pulls her in for another hug and they stand there blocking hall traffic for a few minutes while Samantha ends her call. 

“Yeah,” he says gruffly into her hair as she keeps her face pressed to his chest. When they pull apart she turns away, scrubbing at her eyes. There’s a damp patch on his shirt but he doesn’t say anything. He leads her and Samantha out to his car, having already decided to take the short drive together so Hana can stay with Jack, and takes her weak snort when she sees his beat up car in stride. “Don’t knock it,” Jack says. “It’ll get us there.”

Hana grins at him as she raises a fist to knock on the roof. “Whoops,” she says.

“Very funny,” Jack grouses. Samantha climbs into the back without complaint so Hana dives into the shotgun seat. She stuffs her backpack into the foot well and immediately kicks her feet onto the dashboard. Jack lets it go with a roll of his eyes, knowing that’ll likely come back to bite him. But by the time he pulls into the court house parking lot, she’s folded herself up in the seat with her knees tucked under her chin. 

Jack parks and sets hand on her shoulder before getting out. “Deep breath. Samantha said this part’s pretty much a formality. I already signed my life away to you this morning.” Hana’s mouth curves in a tiny grin as she gives him a fond look. “This is what your parents wanted. We just have to jump through the hoops.”

“That’s right,” Samantha adds as she stands and leans against the door to adjust her shoe. “I wouldn’t have let you in this car if it wasn’t already pretty much decided. Wouldn’t want to strand us here without a ride otherwise, you know?” Samantha earns herself a small smile from Hana and Jack is once again grateful that this woman got their case.

They trek into the court house together and are directed immediately to the family court room, the case ahead of theirs having apparently already wrapped up. Jack stops in the doorway and stares for a minute, not quite sure where to go. He’s never actually been inside a court room, elementary school field trip notwithstanding. Samantha points him and Hana to the correct seats and takes her own. 

Jack immediately stands back up to shake hands with the child welfare attorney he’d met this morning. He can’t remember the man’s name for the life of him, but luckily they’re interrupted before he has to ask again.

They’re called to rise as the judge enters, sitting behind the tall bench. Jack keeps an eye on Samantha and the others, following suit when they sit down. He’s just hoping not to screw up even the tiniest detail or impression. And he’s pretty sure Hana’s doing the same thing, her gaze darting between the judge, their case workers, and Jack. He gives her a discreet thumbs up and she sends back a little peace sign.

“We’re here for the emergency guardianship placement of Hana Song,” the judge starts and gestures for the lawyer to speak. Jack really should remember his name but it still escapes him. Then again, the only reason he knows Hana’s or even his own right now is because they’re burned into his retinas from this morning’s paperwork barrage.

“Yes, your honor. Jack Morrison,” the attorney pauses to give Jack a nod, “is petitioning for custody. The reading of the Songs’ will this morning indicated that they wished guardianship of their daughter go to Mr. Morrison if they were unable to care for her. And all of our checks so far have passed. However, since Mr. Morrison lives in LA, we were not able to conduct a home visit yet. But financials and background check out.”

The judge looks up from her perusal of the documents in question. “LA? Is CPS prepared to work with this?”

“Yes, your honor.” Samantha stands as she speaks. “I’ve already spoken to colleagues in Los Angeles about conducting the home visits and speaking to Mr. Morrison’s references, who also live in the area. Mr. Morrison has already apprised us of his living situation. He’s currently in a one bedroom apartment, but stated that he would begin looking for more suitable living arrangements immediately. Our counterparts in LA are prepared to do home visits before and after that move. We have a child psychologist in LA lined up to continue meeting with Hana, and you have the report from her meeting with ours this morning. We are all in agreement that this is the best option for Ms. Song.” Jack wonders when the psychologist had the time to type that up.

“Ms. Song,” the judge turns to Hana and Jack sees her straighten up, tugging her ill-fitting and apparently boring blouse smooth. “You are old enough to have a say in this. Where would you like to live? Going with Mr. Morrison would mean leaving everything you know here. We could settle you with a family in San Francisco, you know. This is not your only option.”

Hana glances at Jack and then at Samantha, standing when she gives her an encouraging nod. Hana takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders, giving the judge a bright if somewhat nervous smile before speaking. “I want to live with Jack.”

The judge pulls her reading glasses off her face and gives Hana a serious look. “Even though you’ll need to move?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“All right,” the judge nods, tugging a lock of greying hair behind her ear. “In that case, I’m awarding guardianship of Ms. Hana Song to Jack Morrison pending a home visit and reference checks by LA CPS. I want these conducted within the week. Also, Mr. Morrison will need to find a more suitable place to live within the next two months.” Jack has a momentary flash of panic but tries to brush it off. He knew this would be one of the terms, but somehow hearing it out loud makes it sound like a real challenge. “If there are issues with any of these follow-ups, Hana will be placed with a foster family in San Francisco pending another guardianship review. Any objections to these terms?” The judge looks to Samantha and the lawyer.

“No, your honor,” they answer in unison. They’ve obviously done this together many times.

“All right, court adjourned. Ms. Song, I’m very sorry for your loss.” They stand again as the judge leaves and as soon as she’s out of the room, Hana jumps the chair in between her and Jack to hug him again. He catches her and hangs on, both of them heaving deep relieved sighs at the same time. Jack can’t help but laugh as Hana giggles.

“See? No sweat,” Samantha says with a smile. “We’ll get everything set up for the home visit in LA. When are you headed back?” Jack’s brain goes blank. The court date was the big hurdle in his mind and now he’s at a loss for what comes next. “Are you staying up here before the funeral?” Samantha prompts. Right, funeral.

Jack briefly considers trying to get Hana settled in LA and then make the drive back again, but just the thought makes him so tired he wants to cry. He gauges the dark circles under Hana’s eyes and makes the instant decision to let them both rest, however small a comfort it’ll be. “Yeah, we’ll get a hotel around here for now,” he says. “Should be back in LA Thursday night, Friday morning.”

“All right. I’ll shoot for getting everything scheduled on Friday then, to make sure we meet the judge’s deadline. And I’ll give you a call when I know. Take care, Hana,” Samantha says as Hana lets go of Jack to give her a hug too. “And thanks again, Jack.”

“Well, yeah,” he says gruffly, rubbing the back of his neck. “No way I wasn’t going to be here. Thanks for everything.” Samantha nods and joins the attorney on his way out of the court room. Jack starts to follow before he realizes Hana’s still standing where they left her. He turns back and asks, “Hana?”

She stares at the floor for another few seconds before looking over. “So…that’s it?”

Jack frowns a little. “What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” Hana says. She shrugs. “I guess I thought there’d be more to it. But, like…what now? Do we have to make,” she swallows hard, “arrangements and stuff?”

“Not tonight,” Jack says. “I think we’ve done enough for one day, don’t you?” She nods vigorously and grabs his sleeve as he leads her out of the courthouse and back to his car. “How about food? As in real food,” he says quickly as she opens her mouth, sly smile tugging at one corner. 

“Now you’re speaking my language,” she says, kicking her feet up on the dash again. 

“Nope,” he points a stern finger at her shoes. “That was a onetime pass, young lady.” Hana rolls her eyes and folds her legs beneath her as Jack puts the car in gear. She directs him to a ramen shop and they spend a few minutes in comfortable silence, always made that much easier by a good meal. 

Jack finds them a much better hotel than he’d stayed in the night before, especially if they’re going to be there for a few days. He pretends to fight her for the bathroom first before giving in, unpacking as much stuff as he can before he runs completely out of energy. His phone buzzes and he has to find the pocket it ended up in, digging through the suit coat.

> Wilhelm, R. >> Guten abend!

Jack debates how to answer that questionable statement.

> sent << if you say so
> 
> Wilhelm, R. >> Come now, my friend! Is it not a lovely evening?

Jack glances out the window. The sun is low enough to cast the city into a dreary twilight, almost completely hidden by the dark clouds rolling in from the west.

> sent << not so great here but i'm glad you’re having a good night
> 
> Wilhelm, R. >> Oh, I am sorry to hear that.

Jack closes the curtains and sits down at the desk, propping his chin in his hand. He could sleep for a week.

> sent << don’t worry about it. did you need something?
> 
> Wilhelm, R. >> Nothing urgent. I am going to look at counter tops and I thought you might like to have a say, with all your hard work.
> 
> sent << thanks but i have to pass. i'm in san fran, kind of a family emergency

Jack cringes the second he hits send. Reinhardt knows full well Jack’s not close to any of his actual family, and that none of them are anywhere near San Francisco. Sure enough, his phone immediately starts to ring.

“Hey,” Jack answers, doing his best to keep the exhaustion out of his voice. 

“Jack, are you alright? What is the matter?” Reinhardt wastes no time asking. 

Jack opens his mouth but nothing comes out, words clogging up in his throat as the enormity of today washes over him anew. He swallows hard, grateful the shower is still going full blast. “It’s, uh…” He has to stop again, clear his throat. “Yuna and Jisung, they’re Hana’s parents. The house burned down, night before last. I came up here to get her.”

“Mein Gott,” Reinhardt whispers. “Is she alright?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. He pulls his glasses off and scrubs a hand down his face. “She wasn’t home. So I’m her guardian now.”

“Well of course you are,” Reinhardt says, voice full of confidence. Jack smiles a little.

“Oh,” he says as the thought sluggishly occurs to him. “I’ve got you and Ana down as references, so they’re going to want to talk to you sometime this week.”

“And I will give you a glowing review! When will you be coming home?”

Jack slumps down in the chair. “Sometime after the funeral. We’ve got a hotel for now.”

“A nice one, I should hope,” Reinhardt says slyly. 

Jack rolls his eyes. “Yeah, it’s a Hampton. I’m not dragging her to some Motel 6.”

“Just making sure,” Reinhardt laughs. “Well, in that case I will let you go. I hope you both sleep well tonight.”

“Thanks,” Jack says, though he doubts it. He tosses the phone onto the desk just as Hana emerges from a cloud of steam. 

“All yours,” she waves him in, face planting on the bed she’s claimed by the window. “If there’s any hot water left.”

“Back in my day, we were lucky to get it lukewarm—“

“Okay, okay!” She flaps a hand in his direction. He picks up her stuffed bunny and drops it on her head on his way to the bathroom and she laughs, pulling it down into her arms. By the time he finishes his shower, she’s fast asleep and curled up around it. He gently pulls the blankets up to her chin and just watches her for a minute, brows creased. He hopes the exhaustion of the past few days and the relief of getting past the hearing will be enough to help her sleep through the night. He knows better than to hope the same for himself. 

Jack shuts most of the lights off and wars with himself for a minute. He knows he should at least try to sleep, but finds himself pulling his laptop out instead. He’s paging to his new favorite website before he’s even seated against his headboard. He skims through to the blog entry he’d left off at the night before and settles in. He can’t put his finger on it, but there’s something comforting about the way they’re written. Almost like he’s listening to an old friend, though he knows it’s just some stranger complaining on the internet. It’s probably the sleep deprivation catching up with him. 

But right now he’ll take any comfort and any advice he can get.


	10. surprise coffee and tracers

Jack wakes up slowly, awareness filtering in by degrees. Awareness of things like the crick in his neck, the sharp pain in his spine, the hard surface pressing into his cheek. The soft clicking noise repeating just off to his left. He groans and levers himself upright, rubbing at his neck as he tries to stretch. A weight slides off his lap and he blinks blearily down to see a blurry blob that must be his computer on its side next to him, flattening the messed up blankets. Jack reaches over to grope across the nightstand for his glasses but the top is empty. Someone giggles and Jack just about has a heart attack before he remembers where he is. 

Oh, right. Hana. 

“Here,” she says, pushing his glasses into his hand. “I grabbed them before you rolled over on them.”

“Thanks,” he says, voice gravelly. She giggles again and he notices her phone is in her hand. He frowns. 

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s nothing too embarrassing.” Hana’s face is creased in a devious smile and Jack lunges to grab the phone. She squawks and throws herself backwards off the bed, keeping it well out of his reach. Jack reaches up to straighten his glasses and feels the divots and ridges crisscrossing his cheek in a square-like pattern. He looks down at the keyboard he’d apparently used a as a pillow after he’d fallen asleep over his computer and sighs.

He extracts himself from the twist of blankets and tries to work the kinks out of his back. “None of those had better end up on the internet.”

Hana hums, sitting cross legged on the desk and twirling a swath of hair between her fingers. “Maybe. If you make it worth my while.”

Jack chuckles. “How does breakfast sound?”

Hana shrugs, unimpressed. “You have to feed me either way,” she says.

“Yeah,” Jack says as he gathers up his clothes. “But we’re talking the difference between real food from an actual restaurant and toast from the lobby downstairs. Your choice.”

“Aww,” Hana pouts but she’s grinning. She heaves a very put upon sigh. “Then I guess I’ll have to save them until that threat’s not valid anymore.”

Jack stops just inside the bathroom and points a menacing finger at her. “You don’t want to go to war with me, kid,” he says and shuts the door. 

He can hear her laugh through the thin wood. “Bring it on, old man!”

Despite the looming threat, Jack follows Hana’s directions to a small local diner and lets her get a stack of pancakes as big as her head. He plants his laptop on the table and they start the arduous and sobering process of making funeral arrangements. 

Somewhere around Jack’s fifth cup of coffee, his phone buzzes. He ignores it at first. But when it keeps buzzing he realizes it’s an actual phone call instead of a text. Hana leans over to look at the small display and pokes it across the table toward him. “Who’s Wilhelm?”

“Reinhardt Wilhelm,” Jack says absently, leaving it on the table to finish filling out the flower order form he’s halfway through. “Friend of mine in LA. I’ll call him back.” Hana shrugs, going back to her list of people that need to be contacted on the tablet she’d pulled out of her backpack. 

The phone buzzes again. Jack sighs and flips it open. “Hey.”

“Hello!” Reinhardt’s voice is tinny through the line. “And how are you both this morning?”

“We’re hanging in there,” Jack says, bracing his shoulder against the phone so he can keep typing. “Did CPS call?”

“Not yet,” Reinhardt says. There’s a weird rushing noise in the background of the call. “I expect I will hear from them soon. I have passed the word along to Ana as well, she is ready for them.”

“Thanks. What’s up?”

“I was just wondering which Hampton you two are staying in.”

Jack sits straight up and almost drops the phone. He’s known Reinhardt a long time and his suspicions are instantly raised. “Why?”

“Oh, no particular reason! I merely happen to be in town. I thought I would drop by and lend a hand.”

“You what?” Jack snaps. “How are you in town? Weren’t you in LA yesterday?”

“Well, you see,” Reinhardt says, patience radiating from his voice as if he’s explaining something to a small child. “The usual method is to get into a car and drive—“

“That’s not what I meant,” Jack says. Hana’s watching him intently across the table and he waves her back to her list. “What are you doing up here?”

“Jack,” Reinhardt says. “I am sure you can figure it out. Now where should I meet you? Your drinks are getting cold.”

Jack pushes a hand up under his glasses to cover his eyes and sighs. He gives Reinhardt directions to the hotel and hangs up, looking across the table to Hana. “So Reinhardt’s in town.”

“I heard,” she says, chin propped up in her palm. “What’s he up here for?”

“Us,” Jack says, packing up his computer. Hana raises an eyebrow and he gestures to her bag. “Come on, I think we’ve hogged the table long enough.”

“What do you mean ‘us’?” Hana asks as they head to the car. 

“I talked to him yesterday, warned him about being one of my references. I’m guessing he hit the road as soon as he got up this morning to come help out.”

Hana pauses with her hand on the open car door, one foot poised in the air. “Why? He doesn’t even know me.”

Jack shrugs. “That’s Reinhardt.”

They beat him to the hotel by minutes, barely out onto the sidewalk as he swerves into the lot and parks his truck. Reinhardt throws open the door and jumps onto the pavement, towering over them both. Hana takes a step back and looks vaguely alarmed. 

“Hello, my friends!” Reinhardt booms with an enthusiastic wave. He reaches back into the cab and pulls out a drink carrier, stomping over to meet them. He hands a large paper cup to Jack and says, “A caramel macchiato with an extra shot for you, since I know your ridiculous American sugar is very important to you.” Hana snorts and he smiles at her as Jack rolls his eyes. Reinhardt hands Hana another cup. “And hot chocolate with extra whipped cream for you!”

Hana grins widely. “Okay, you can stay. I’m Hana.”

“A pleasure to meet you! I am Reinhardt.” He gives Hana an overdramatic bow as they head inside. “I am here to fulfill any need you may have. Do not hesitate to ask!”

“Don’t you have a deadline?” Jack asks, eyebrow raised. 

“Yes, of course I do. There are always deadlines,” Reinhardt says, winking at Hana. “I love to watch them as they fly by. Sometimes I wave.”

Hana laughs and Jack can’t help a chuckle himself. Reinhardt gets himself a room and they drop his bags off before heading back to Jack and Hana’s. Jack pulls his laptop out again but Hana groans, flopping over on her bed. “Do we have to keep working on this stuff?” she pouts.

“We need to have everything organized by Thursday,” Jack says. “But I guess we could break for a while.”

“Yes!” Hana punches the air. 

“What would you rather do?” Jack asks. 

“Anything,” Hana whines. She hesitates, then looks shyly up at them through her bangs. “I kinda want…to go shopping.” Jack’s stomach drops. He’d completely forgotten about a pretty basic need, yet again. He mentally kicks himself; he’s totally nailing this guardian thing already. How the hell had he convinced a court of professionals he could do this?

And she says it like she’s unsure either of them would agree to such a thing. Jack can’t really blame her. But Reinhardt surprises her again and leaps to his feet. “That is a wonderful idea! Just the thing you need. You must replenish your wardrobe, after all.”

Hana’s face lights up with the broadest smile Jack’s seen from her all day. Jack grins back and grabs his keys. “Then let’s roll out.”

Hana’s a pretty sharp girl and seems to have a good grasp on the basic laws of physics because she plows into the back seat and immediately pulls out her phone. Jack’s pleased that her photos of his keyboard face from this morning now have company with the ones she takes as Reinhardt crams himself into the passenger seat like a one man game of twister. Once everyone’s as situated as they can be, Reinhardt with one elbow sticking out the window, Hana directs Jack to a mall. 

They pile out and follow her as she makes a beeline for a shop that’s straight out of Jack’s worst nightmare. It’s overflowing with every kind of rhinestone, sequin, and glitter ever invented by mankind. And it’s overwhelmingly pink.

Jack snags Hana’s elbow before she can clear the threshold. He shakes his head as she turns a finely tuned beseeching look on him. “Real clothes first,” he says, spinning her around and sending her off in the direction of a one of the bigger stores. 

Hana pouts but trudges along as Reinhardt nudges him with an elbow. “Now, Jack,” he starts in an impressively low voice for his lung capacity. “You will let her go to her store, ja?”

Jack takes one look back at it over his shoulder and shudders. “Yeah,” he grouses. “Later.”

Reinhardt nods with a knowing smile, satisfied for the moment. Jack knows his fate is sealed but tries to push it to the back of his mind. He follows the two inside the big store and they each drift toward different racks, picking up items as they go. Jack’s careful to keep Hana in sight at all time as he adds shirts he thinks look reasonable to his arms. 

But when they regroup by the changing rooms, both Hana and Reinhardt give him identical incredulous expressions. He looks down at his pile and frowns at them. “What?”

“Seriously?” Hana says as she pokes at one of the plain blue t-shirts he’d grabbed like it’s some weird specimen she’s never seen before. 

Reinhardt guffaws and shakes his head. “Jack never did have what you might call a sense of style,” he says. He holds out his own selections for them to inspect and Hana coos happily over the prints and bright colors he offers. Jack glances at his own the array of darker, solid colored shirts and sighs, dumping the pile onto the return cart. 

“No, hang on.” Hana rifles through it to snag one or two black ones. “Doesn’t hurt to have a few basics,” she says like he should know what that means. She pauses as the pile shifts enough to uncover the one t-shirt with a design he had selected. She stares at the dark blue shirt with the pale pink line drawing of a bunny covering the front for a long moment. Reinhardt and Jack say nothing, waiting for her next move. 

She finally snatches it up without a word and darts into the changing room. 

Jack shares a shrug with Reinhardt as they settle in to wait for her to pick her favorites. Jack expects to be bored—right up until Hana throws open the door and strikes a pose, clad in a pair of pink capris and the bunny t-shirt. Reinhardt claps like it’s a fashion show and Jack feels a warmth build in his chest. He doesn’t bother hiding the grin that spreads across his face. 

It definitely makes that terrible store full of nothing but sparkly bangles much more bearable, even if the cash register totals at both stores make him want to cringe. He’s very thankful for his untouched savings account of old army hazard pay—for however long it lasts.

\--

Jesse sits curled up in the corner booth at the coffee shop with his notes and textbooks spread open across the table like some educational mountain range. But his attention is focused on his laptop, perched on top of the thickest book. The newest episode of one of Gabe’s telenovas plays out across the screen, positioned just so that he also has a clear view to the front counter. Where Hanzo may or may not be taking order after order at the register.

It really makes following the episode more of a challenge than it should be.

Even so, he's getting absorbed in it when a body flops down into the booth next to him. Jesse nearly leaps out of his skin as a head full of spiky brown hair lands on his shoulder. "Wotcha watching?" Lena asks, turning the laptop to examine the drama playing out on the screen. 

Jesse pulls out the right earbud and hands it to her as he puts his other hand to his heart. "Good lord, woman. Warn a guy next time."

Lena gives him a bright smile as she puts in the earbud and scoots over even further, pressed fully up against him to see better. Jesse extracts his right arm from under her and lays it around her shoulders to get it out of the way. Lena's face goes wild with exaggerated disbelief. "Is this a bloody soap opera?"

"Telenova," Jesse says. "And you're damn right. Now are you goin' to watch or just complain about it? Daniella's about to find out if Raphael's been cheatin' on her this whole time."

Lena oohs appreciatively and snuggles in to watch. She's attentive through the rest of the episode, making jokes and commenting on the characters' choices despite the fact Jesse knows she doesn't understand a word of the Spanish dialogue. He reaches to turn the subtitles on once and she slaps his hand away. "I like trying to guess," she says. "Tell me at the end what I got right."

Jesse chuckles. "Suit yourself." He glances over her head every now and then at the counter while she's distracted, not that there's much point in hiding how far gone he is from her. Business seems steady and Hanzo is in constant motion, though Jesse could swear he looks towards the corner booth once or twice. Jesse tries to catch his eye and give him a smile but Hanzo turns away to address a new customer. Jesse deflates a little. 

Lena pats his hand sympathetically without looking away from the screen and Jesse sighs. 

When the episode wraps up, Lena turns sideways in the booth to face him. "So here's my recap. Miguel runs an illegal gambling business and the cops are closing in, the tall guy—is that Alejandro?"

"Diego," Jesse corrects. "Alejandro's the short one."

"Whatever," Lena says as she waves an airy hand. "Diego fights crime by night in a mask and Rita's amnesia keeps her from remembering she's a lost heiress. Also Raphael's a tosser and Daniella should run for president."

"Well," Jesse laughs, "you got the last part right."

"I love it already," Lena says. "Is there more?"

"Nope." Jesse shuts the laptop and leans back. "Next episode ain't droppin' for a few days. 

"Aww," Lena whines. "I was really getting into that. Probably for the best, though." She checks her phone. "Got a study group in a few minutes so I should run." She frowns, squinting at him in concentration. "I came by to tell you something and now I can't remember what it was."

"Tell me somethin’ real or to complain about physics again?"

"My nemesis," Lena sighs, complete with dramatic hand pressed to her brow. "I can't wait to get through this general nonsense and into the mechanics, that's when it gets interesting." 

"You might," Jesse says with a shudder as Lena climbs out of the booth and shoulders her bag. He crawls out next to her and stretches. "I ain't goin' near this subject ever again if I survive it."

"Cheer up, love," Lena says. "It'll only get worse from there!"

"You have a serious misunderstandin' of what 'pep talk' means," Jesse laughs. 

Lena winks and turns to go, spinning back around after two steps. "Oh, I remember! You're free on Saturday, right?"

"Yeah," he says suspiciously. "Why? Thought it was an away game this week. We tailgatin’ anyway?"

"Nope. We need another tall bloke for our ultimate frisbee team, so I signed you up."

"You what?" he sputters.

"Mate, are you going to look me in the eye and say no to ultimate frisbee?"

Jesse pretends to consider the matter carefully before shrugging. "No, I ain't. Guess I'm on the team."

"Great! Practice is on Saturday morning," Lena says and gives him a playful shove when he groans. "I know you're capable of waking up, I've seen you do it! I’ll even bring you coffee. I have faith in you."

"It's wildly misplaced," Jesse says, picking up his coffee mug. 

"Possibly," Lena agrees with a smile, going up on her tiptoes to peck him on the cheek. "You're the best, love. Gotta run!" He gives her a quick hug and waves her off, shaking his head as he walks over to the counter. Hanzo looks up as he approaches and Jesse holds out the paltry fare for a refill. 

Hanzo doesn't move to take it, fixing his gaze on Jesse's offering. "I am not sure I should let you have more coffee," he says. "How many cups will this be?"

"Listen," Jesse says, pleased deep down that Hanzo is keeping track of him even if it's purely for business purposes. "You wouldn't be so cruel to come between a man and what's replacin’ his lifeblood, wouldja?"

"Do not be so certain," Hanzo says with a straight face, although Jesse thinks one corner of his mouth twitches. But he does take the money and follows as Jesse moves to the self-serve carafes, checking the level in each one. He picks up an empty one but pauses and gives Jesse a considering look. Jesse feels a little shiver run down his spine. "Tell me," Hanzo says. "Do you plan to take up residence in that booth for the duration?"

Jesse swallows. "What do you mean?"

"You have been there all evening. Did something happen to the room that I should know about?"

"Oh," Jesse laughs a little self-consciously. "No, it's still standin'. But the guys next door were settin' off what sounded like fireworks so I high tailed it." If anything, Jesse's grateful to have Jamie and Mako as neighbors; he gets the sense that excuse is never going to run dry.

"So it would be better to say it was still standing last you were there," Hanzo says. 

Jesse leans on the counter and grins. "Yeah, I guess that'd be more accurate."

Hanzo hums and shifts the empty carafe in his grip, drawing Jesse's gaze. His fingers are heavily calloused, but Jesse can't tell what might have caused them. Maybe guitar strings? But he's seen no evidence of any musical instruments around their room. He realizes he's been staring too long again when Hanzo clears his throat. "Did you need anything further? Or are you content to wind yourself up like a live wire?"

"Oh, nope. I'm good." Jesse lifts the cup and nods before beating a hasty retreat. Hanzo walks into the back room without a second glance and Jesse curls up in his corner booth. He pulls his hat down over his face and groans into the worn leather. 

A text alert interrupts his self-pity session. Jesse peeks one eye out from under his hat to check his phone.

> sombra >> ughh fuck raphael
> 
> sent << thought you didn’t care about that kind of stuff
> 
> sombra >> of course not  
>  sombra >> doesn’t mean i like watching her put up with it

Jesse chuckles, shoving his hat back to its usual place.

> sent << fair. and yeah, fuck that guy
> 
> sombra >> gabe hasn’t stopped swearing at him  
>  sombra >> it’s hilarious

Out of the corner of his eye, Jesse sees Hanzo return from the back room and resume his place at the register. Jesse twists so he’s wedged against the wall and settles back, trying his damnedest to make it look natural. He props his phone up on his knees to keep a nice line of sight.

> sombra >> she needs to date diego, he’s cool
> 
> sent << i mean, agreed. but how do you figure  
>  sent << they’ve never even met

Hanzo comes around the counter to straighten up the little cabinet with napkins and cream just to Jesse’s right. He gets a little distracted watching him, clearly defined muscles rippling beneath Hanzo’s usual long sleeved black shirt. The ridiculous shop apron he has to wear does nothing to detract from the view.

Jesse gives him a smile and Hanzo nods to him as he walks back to the counter. Jesse counts it as a win.

He looks back down to the small essay that’s poured in while his attention was elsewhere.

> sombra >> they’re a good match  
>  sombra >> complement each other well, they’d get along great  
>  sombra >> i know people, it’s not that hard  
>  sombra >> all she’d have to do is talk about dogs and flutter her eyelashes just right and she’d have him hooked

Jesse grins wolfishly at the screen. This opportunity it too good to pass up.

> sent << oh are you giving out dating advice now?
> 
> sombra >> NO
> 
> sent << because it just so happens i've got a conundrum myself
> 
> sombra >>dije que no
> 
> sent << you’d desert me in my hour of need?!
> 
> sombra >> i can’t help you  
>  sombra >> you don’t have the eyelashes for it

Jesse laughs and sits up, pulling a textbook back in front of him. But he can’t resist one parting shot.

> sent << cierra la bocca  
>  sent << my eyelashes are fabulous
> 
> sombra >> ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, when we said slow we meant glacial. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> But keep the guesses about how they will meet up coming, those are phenomenal and we love them all. Seriously, we are still completely blown away that people are reading and liking this, you guys are the best!
> 
> And have no fear, the Shimada Bros pasts shall be revealed in time mwahaha (we say as we stroke our respective cats like Bond villains).


	11. animal related maintenance, the world spins on, home visit hoops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medical alert: Jack’s at work and has a call for an unconscious patient. It’s not plot relevant so if you want to skip stop reading at “Right, right. Where are we headed?” and start reading again at “Jack and Zenyatta do just that and head to the hospital to exchange their drug box before going back to the station.”

Gabe pulls into the driveway and shoves the car in park, spinning around to glare at the shrieking cat carrier in the back seat. "Would you shut up already? We're home! The car has to stop when we’re home." Reaper pauses in his yowling to stare at Gabe with extreme derision through the mesh in the side. He then starts right back up again and Gabe sighs. "It was just a damn checkup, you're not dying. Give it a rest already."

He yanks out the carrier and slams the back door just as another car pulls into the driveway. Zenyatta climbs out, fifteen minutes early as usual. Gabe tries to have him over for meals when their schedules align, since Zenyatta’s personal attitude toward food is absentminded at best. Gabe does not understand how he can keep Genji perfectly healthy and forget to eat himself what seems like every other day. The man is practically made out of toothpicks. Gabe doesn’t know how he keeps enough muscle on his body to lift patients at work.

Gabe waves him inside, dumping the carrier on the living room floor with more gentleness than he feels the hellcat deserves. Once Zenyatta has the front door firmly closed, Gabe opens the carrier. Reaper shoots out and dives under the couch like he's been fired from a cannon. Gabe kicks the carrier into the front closet and scowls at the couch as Zenyatta comes up beside him. 

"So," he says. "That was the newest addition to your household, I presume?"

"Not for long," Gabe growls. "Have a seat, if you don't mind taking your life in your hands."

"I will risk it," Zenyatta chuckles, folding his legs beneath him on the couch in his customary pose. Gabe ducks into the kitchen and steps over the blissfully napping dog to grab a couple water bottles from the fridge. He perches on the coffee table, keeping his feet well away from the couch and any possible feline retribution.

"I don't get it," Gabe says, handing a bottle to Zenyatta. "The whole checkup he acts like he's the most innocent cat on the planet. Totally sweet to the vet, purring and everything. The damn thing even sat still through his shots. I get him out to the car, and he screams bloody murder every time we stop at a red light. Guess he’s only happy when it’s moving."

Zenyatta shrugs elegantly. "Cats can be oftentimes inscrutable."

"Peacekeeper is never like this. You always know what that oaf is thinking." Gabe takes a long sip and sets his bottle aside. "I'm beginning to see why you said no to the ferret idea."

"Truthfully," Zenyatta tilts his head, "that never entered my mind. Though I understand ferrets can be as devious as any feline. We were more concerned with its socialization, since it would have to spend considerable time alone. I understand ferrets do not do well in such circumstances."

Gabe raises an eyebrow. "Surely it could survive a night or two alone here and there."

"Yes," Zenyatta agrees. "But our concern is more for the future. You know that Genji has little interest in college, correct?"

Gabe nods, smirking a little. "Yeah. He got a kick out of making fun of Jesse during his application process. Seems like he's got something else in mind."

"He would like to travel after he finishes with high school. See the world and broaden his mind. He is planning it quite seriously. I am proud of him," Zenyatta says, warmth diffused through his voice. For a guy whose face is unusually impassive, Zenyatta is somehow very expressive. Gabe marvels at how he conveys so much emotion with minimal input from his facial muscles.

"Well," Gabe shrugs, as though he's not just as invested in the young man himself. "Kid's got a good head on his shoulders. Under all that grass he calls hair, anyway."

Zenyatta chuckles. "Even so. Genji may want a ferret very much, but he understands it would not be right to leave it home alone while he is gone. Especially with my schedule. A point he raised himself, I might add."

Gabe grimaces and tries to bite his tongue against the words rising up in his throat. But they tumble out in a growl despite his efforts. "It could always stay here when you’re gone." 

Zenyatta regards him for a long minute. Finally he says, voice neutral, "It would make Genji very happy." Gabe can see the barest hint of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth and scowls harder.

"I mean," he says as nonchalantly as possible, even if he knows that Zenyatta can likely see through him at this point. “It might give the damn cat something to chase every now and then so he leaves me alone. Might even keep the dog entertained too if I’m lucky.”

"Of course." Zenyatta inclines his head. “After all, it would seem you are already prepared for such eventualities,” he says, indicating the little wooden sign hanging just inside the entryway that reads ‘Welcome to the circus’ with a graceful wave.

“That’s just because Amélie thinks she’s funny,” Gabe grimaces. “But I should make sure they can all coexist first,” Gabe says, “Wouldn’t want to have to subdivide the house by animal.”

"In your own time," Zenyatta says serenely and Gabe knows the point for reneging is long past. 

Gabe sighs. "I have to figure out how to cat proof the damn house anyway," he says, scrubbing a hand through his short hair. "Can't be that much harder for ferrets."

Zenyatta tilts his head. "I was under the impression cats are a low maintenance type of pet. Is that not the case?"

"This one sure as hell isn’t," Gabe snarls. "Had to schedule him for declawing this morning. God knows why but he won't stop climbing the window screens. Last thing I need is for him to fall out an upstairs window once he rips through the damn things. And we've gone through more power cords than I can count. He thinks they're the greatest toy ever. He even seems to like the taste of bitter apple, for God’s sake. I'm waiting for him to electrocute himself." Gabe glares at the couch and the sulking cat beneath it. "Low maintenance my ass."

Zenyatta hums. "Have you considered a charging station?"

"A what?"

Zenyatta waves a hand toward the outlet next to the TV stand. "You take a small cabinet and cut a hole in the back, then set it in front of an outlet such as this. Place a power strip inside it and create a pet-proof charging station. Provided the pet in question is incapable of opening doors, of course."

"Wouldn't put it past him," Gabe says, but he's staring at the outlet. "That’s...that's a good idea though. How'd you think of that?"

"I came across the suggestion when I was first investigating what to expect from ferret ownership," Zenyatta says, with another hint of a smile. "Before we decided to forgo the experience."

Gabe frowns, considering the steps required. "Cut a hole in the back?"

"I could assist, if you are too busy," Zenyatta says, graciously not outright mentioning Gabe's complete incompetence with all things involving power tools. 

"I mean," Gabe shrugs as though it doesn't matter to him. Even though they both know there's no way such a construction project is happening without outside interference, now that the one person in the house actually adept at working with his hands is away at college. "If you have time."

Zenyatta nods. "Perhaps next week? I am back on shift tonight." He pauses, sliding his phone out of his pocket after a moment's contemplation. "In fact, I should verify that my partner is aware of that fact. Or find out if I am working with someone else for the night."

Gabe raises his eyebrows, stretching a little to pop his back as Zenyatta shoots off a quick text. "He unreliable?" Gabe had never gotten that impression from what little Zenyatta says about his job.

Sure enough, Zenyatta shakes his head quickly. "No, nothing like that. He has merely been out of town for a few days. Some sort of family emergency, I understand."

"Fair enough," Gabe shrugs. "Next week is fine for me. If I don’t get a chance to get it done over the weekend."

"Of course," Zenyatta says, inclining his head. Just then, Reaper slinks out from under the couch and freezes when he notices the strange human in the vicinity. Zenyatta doesn't move, letting the cat come to him on his own. Reaper hops up on to the couch and pads cautiously forward, finally reaching out to poke Zenyatta's knee with one paw. Then, before Zenyatta can so much as move to pet him, Reaper turns tails and flees like a bat out of hell. He runs right over Peacekeeper as he zips through the kitchen, startling the dog awake. Peacekeeper scrambles to his gangly feet and gives chase, Reaper yowling all the while.

Gabe claps his hands over his face and sighs while Zenyatta laughs. "I see why you disagree with 'low maintenance'," he says. "Are you certain you don't mind adding yet another creature to this mix?"

"It won't be all the time," Gabe says firmly. "And I don't think it could get any worse at this point."

Zenyatta grants him one of his very rare smiles. "Be careful what you wish for, my friend."

\--

The movies make it seem like funerals only take place during dreary, gloomy days. Days with rain pouring down in curtains like even the sky feels the grief of loss. Somehow it makes the bright sunshine and cheerful bird song feel like an insult as Jack leads the way out of the final memorial service.

Hana squints against the light and fumbles for her new pink sunglasses as she walks in step with him. He adjusts his grip on the arrangement he’s carrying and offers her his free arm to take the potted plant she’s got her arms wrapped around. But she shakes her head and shifts it to one arm until she gets the sunglasses on. Then she goes back to clutching the flowers like her life depends on it. She stares at the ground as she walks, her shoulders slumped so far she’s almost hunched over. 

Reinhardt plods along behind them, weighed down with the rest of the flowers Hana’s decided to keep. They set them out carefully in the bed of Reinhardt’s truck and he slides the cover over them, patting gently it once it’s in place. Hana stands motionless, staring at the truck for a good minute before Jack kicks his brain in gear and wraps her up a hug.

It hadn’t felt real before now, that Yuna and Jisung are actually gone. Not until the memorials drove the point home, a reality they can’t escape. Jack’s having a hell of a time trying to process it; he has no idea how Hana’s still upright. She looks like a shadow of herself, face paler than a sheet as she trembles faintly in his arms.

She finally sniffs hard and wriggles out of his grip, shoving her sunglasses aside to wipe at her eyes. “Is that, like,” she starts, pausing to take a deep breath. “Everything?”

Jack blinks down at her. “What do you mean?”

“Isn’t there anything else we need to do?” Hana sighs.

“Uh,” Jack tries to kick his brain in gear. “Here? No, that’s everything. It’s all CPS stuff from here.”

Hana straightens her spine and nods. “Right. CPS, like the home visit thingy. Okay.”

Jack squints at her, feeling like he’s missing something. Reinhardt apparently gets the memo though because he gives Hana a sad smile and opens his arms, letting her choose to come to him. She doesn’t hesitate at all and buries her face in his chest as he engulfs her in his own hug. “Just remember, bienchen. You must rest at some point. This is not a thing you can run away from forever.” Hana buries her face into his chest and sighs deeply. After a long pause, she nods. Reinhardt hums as he strokes her hair with a gentle hand. “You will be better off in the end, I promise.” 

Jack leans against the bed of the truck and just watches as they stand together for a moment. He rifles through his pockets until his fingers land on his phone. He slides it out to turn the ringer back on and frowns, noticing a text notification waiting patiently in the top bar. He flips the phone open.

> Tekhartha, Z. >> I hope you are well. I wish to ensure you are aware we are due back on shift this evening. Will I see you then?

Jack’s heart stutters to a halt. “Shit,” he mutters. 

“What’s wrong?” Reinhardt asks as he looks up. Hana pulls back from the hug and gives him a sidelong glance.

He shrugs, a little helplessly. “I have to work tonight,” he says, shoving his glasses out of the way to scrub at his eyes. “I completely forgot. It’s Thursday already?”

“Uh,” Hana says, swiping at her cheeks to scrub away tear tracks. “I actually have no idea.”

“It is,” Reinhardt nods. He checks the clunky watch he wears everywhere. “Just after noon. Will you be able to make it back in time?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “But only if we head out now.”

“It’s okay, Jack. I’d rather get going anyway,” Hana says. She folds her arms tight across her chest, shoulders hunched. “I don’t want to be here anymore.” Jack gives her a one armed squeeze. 

Reinhardt squints at them. “Jack, you said tonight, ja? As in overnight?”

“Yeah,” Jack groans, the logical conclusion finally touching down in his brain. “Shit.”

“Oh,” Hana says. She perks back up a little and looks at him with a confident smile—and it’s a pretty good act, from where Jack’s standing. “That’s okay. I can stay by myself, no problem.”

“No way,” Jack says without hesitation. “First off, you’re twelve.” Hana pouts. “Second, the first thing I do as your guardian is not going to be leave you home alone all night. We’re doing this right.”

“Aww,” Hana whines. She drops the pout right away though, brow furrowed as she reaches up behind her sunglasses to swipe at her eyes again. “But…what do we do?”

Reinhardt clears his throat, straightening his collar with theatrical exaggeration. “I think the answer must be right in front of you, wouldn’t you agree?” Hana gives him a halfhearted grin but Jack opens his mouth, protests ready on his tongue. Reinhardt waves him off before the first syllable leaves his mouth. “And say nothing about ‘doing too much’ or some such nonsense. It is my pleasure! Now, would you like to stay in my guest room tonight?” he asks Hana, glancing back to Jack. “I would think perhaps your apartment is not ready just yet, ja?”

“Right,” Jack sighs. “Hana, you okay with that?”

“Sure,” she says, pulling off her sunglasses and giving Reinhardt a bigger smile. It does nothing to disguise the redness to her eyes but she keeps her chin up. “Thank you!”

“Yeah,” Jack says, shooting a quick affirmative text back to Zenyatta. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Say nothing of it,” Reinhardt reiterates. Hana gives him one more hug before she hops into the Civic’s passenger seat. Jack can see her put her feet up on the dash again as he steps over to shake Reinhardt’s hand. Reinhardt gives him a look and grasps the offered hand, yanking him into a hug of his own before Jack can react. “I will see you tonight,” he says when he releases Jack, sending him off with a bruising clap on the back. 

Jack gives him a lopsided and embarrassed smile before climbing into the driver’s seat. He points wordlessly at Hana’s feet and she sighs, pulling them down to sit properly without argument. Jack gets the sense that’s a red flag.

Hana stares out the window as Jack pulls out into traffic. He glances at her from time to time as he navigates through town but she doesn’t move an inch. He turns on the radio as he merges onto the highway, last set to some local pop station. When she still doesn’t react, he scans through until he finds an oldie station. 

Hana doesn’t say a word. Jack reaches over and takes her hand, giving it a squeeze. Hana sighs and tilts sideways until her head rests against the window. But she squeezes back.

After five minutes Jack extracts his hand, snaps the oldie station off, and takes her hand back. Hana huffs out a tiny giggle and Jack takes it as a win. 

They beat Reinhardt to his house and sit out by the curb to wait. The new sights and sounds as they drove through downtown Burbank seem to have helped perk Hana up; she stares up at the carefully restored Victorian spires and woodwork details with adoration. “I love it,” she says, clutching her bunny to her chest. Jack can almost see the hearts in her eyes.

“I knew I shouldn’t have brought you here first,” he chuckles, glad she’s showing more signs of life. Maybe she really did just need to get out of San Francisco. “You’re going to hate the apartment after this thing.”

Hana raises an eyebrow. “Won’t we be moving anyway?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, shrugging. “But are you telling me this is easy to top?”

“Fair,” Hana agrees. Reinhardt pulls up a moment later, his delay explained as he hauls two giant fistfuls of grocery bags out of his truck’s cab. Hana shoulders her backpack and they each grab a few from Reinhardt, freeing him up to get into the house.

“Jack, could you stay for dinner?” Reinhardt asks as he levers the door open with one foot.

“No, I’ve gotta go,” Jack says as he sets his bags down in the kitchen. He turns to Hana, catching her as she moves in for a hug and burying his face in her hair as she clings to him. “You going to be okay tonight?” 

Hana’s quiet for a minute before she says, “Yeah. I’ll be fine. But…can I still text you?”

“Yeah,” he agrees without hesitation. “Any time you want. Just no freaking out if it takes a bit for me to respond, okay? Might be on a call.”

She nods and steps back, head held high. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“What time is the visit?” Reinhardt says from behind the refrigerator door, where he is ostensibly occupied putting away groceries. Or rather rearranging them at this point, considering everything’s been put away for a few minutes now.

“Nine,” Jack says as he moves to the door. “I’m off at seven, so I’ll be home right after to get ready.”

“We will meet you there,” Reinhardt says, nodding. 

Jack pauses and turns back, separating the spare apartment key from his ring and handing it to Hana. “This’ll be your key.” She wraps her fingers around it and nods like he’s handing her the key to Fort Knox. “See you in the morning,” he nods back and heads outside. 

He gets behind the wheel and has to steel himself to drive away. It’s a strange thing, to be going back to his normal life when everything else has fundamentally changed. Only the thought that he’s leaving Hana with Reinhardt, one of the two people in his life right now he’d trust with to look after her, lets him start the car and head out. 

Even so, he almost turns back around at every turn he makes on his way to the station. 

When he does pull in, he has three minutes to change into his rumpled uniform and one text already waiting. Jack can’t help the smile that tugs up both corners of his mouth.

> Song, H. >> have a good night!!  
>   
>  sent << you too

Jack takes a deep breath and gets out of the car. He jogs into the station and barely manages to wrestle on his uniform and punch in before his radio goes off, calling them into service. He really hopes Zenyatta got in early enough to check their gear. It’s something Jack normally takes on himself, to give Zenyatta as much time at home before a shift as he can. But tonight it’s not happening.

Jack runs out into the bay and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees Zenyatta sitting in the driver’s seat. He calmly sets some paperwork aside and picks up the radio as Jack throws himself into the passenger seat.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Jack says as he straps in.

“You are not late. You are simply not early,” Zenyatta replies, pulling the ambulance out of the bay and flipping on the lights and sirens. “I expected you would be pressed for time today and planned accordingly.”

“Still,” Jack starts to protest.

“It is fine, Jack,” Zenyatta cuts him off. “I do not mind. Everything is stocked and we are good to go.”

“Right, right. Where are we headed? I didn’t hear the dispatch info.”

Zenyatta takes another glance at the screen displaying their information and driving directions before turning it towards Jack. “It’s Gloria.”

“Unresponsive again?” Jack scrolls through the dispatch information even though he’s pretty sure he could quote it at this point from the near monthly calls they make for her. Jack is very familiar with Gloria’s difficulties controlling her insulin levels.

“Yes. Her husband already checked her glucose as he was calling. It was forty-seven,” Zenyatta says as he makes the turn into the neighborhood.

Jack groans. “I was hoping the new insulin would help her out.” He shoves open his door as Zenyatta parks, grabbing their drug box and jump kit. Zenyatta hops into the back to get the monitor and oxygen, just in case.

“Hey, Patrick,” Jack greets Gloria’s husband as he holds open the door for them.

“Hey, Jack, Zenyatta,” Patrick nods to them. “Thanks for coming. She’s in the living room.” He lets Jack and Zenyatta head inside and follows them in. “I called her on my way home from a work dinner. She was finishing up for the day, was going to check her sugar and grab dinner for herself. Her doctor said to try small meals spaced out throughout the day. Check five or six times a day. The routine’s been working for a while, she’s been feeling better. But yeah. She was like this when I got back.”

“Thanks, Patrick,” Jack says as he moves the coffee table out of the way to better get to Gloria where she’s laid out on her side on the couch. “Gloria, can you hear me?” Jack shakes her shoulder and pinches an earlobe but gets no response.

“She’s satting at ninety-nine percent and her glucose is still forty-seven,” Zenyatta reports after he’s hooked her up to their monitor.

“All right,” Jack says. He pulls the jump kit towards himself to get an IV started while Zenyatta starts digging the D50 out of their drug box.

“I’m going to make her a snack,” Patrick says, heading towards the kitchen. Jack knows that he is well versed in this by now and will bring back something high in protein for when they wake her up.

Jack starts the IV and takes the D50 from Zenyatta, pushing it through and flushing it well. They grab a full set of vitals while they wait for the dextrose to work. It’s only a few minutes before Gloria starts to come around.

“Hey, Gloria. Can you hear me?” Jack shakes her shoulder as her eyes start to flicker open and closed.

“Yeah,” Gloria mumbles. “Sugar again?”

“Yeah. Patrick’s getting you some food. Feel like sitting up yet?”

“No.”

“Okay, take your time. Can you tell me what happened?” Jack asks.

“Sugar looked fine when I checked it, so I didn’t eat right away. Thought I’d be okay and wanted to finish the page I was working on.” Gloria’s speech becomes clearer by the word. “Guess I wasn’t.”

“Nah. You might want to eat first before illustrating another page next time.” Jack says, adding a small grin to soften the reproach.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind,” Gloria laughs weakly as she levers herself upright by slow degrees.

“How are you feeling sitting up?” Zenyatta asks as he hits the monitor to recheck Gloria’s vital signs.

“Okay. Little dizzy. But eating should solve that,” Gloria says as Patrick walks in with a laden plate and a glass of orange juice.

“All right. We’ll stick around to make sure the dizziness goes away with real food. Everything else is looking good.” Jack stands up and gives Gloria some space to eat. “You know the drill. We have to recommend that you go to the hospital with us. Do you want to go?”

“No,” Gloria says between bites of her sandwich. “The new insulin is longer acting and I just need to remember that. We’ll be fine.”

“All right. We’ll get the refusal signed and get out of your hair once you’re done and we recheck your glucose.”

“Sounds good,” Patrick says, sitting down next to his wife on the couch and giving her arm a warm squeeze.

Jack and Zenyatta do just that and head to the hospital to exchange their drug box before going back to the station. Jack gets his report out of the way before he drags out his old brick of a laptop to research what to expect in the morning. He knows he should be trying to get some sleep between calls, but he hates being unprepared. And he’ll be damned if he messes up any part of this custody process.

The internet has frustratingly few details about home visits. Jack groans when yet another website turns out to be unhelpful. Even his new favorite blog is scarce on details, despite the fact that some of the earliest posts are rather lengthy rants about the adoption process.

“Problems, Jack?” Zenyatta asks. He sets a cup of coffee in front of Jack and takes a sip from his own mug that probably contains some obscure tea. Which reminds him that he never did ask about the next weird tea Ana wanted. Was it osmanthus? Shit.

“The internet is useless,” Jack snaps, shutting the lid on his laptop with more force than necessary.

Zenyatta tilts his head but otherwise takes his outburst in stride. “A repository is often only so useful as the queries made of it.” Jack blinks at him and he waves it away. “What are you looking for?”

Jack frowns a little, leveling Zenyatta with an appraising look as he weighs how much he’d like to share. His partner waits him out, exuding his usual sense of serenity that Jack has never been able to understand. His instincts tell him to keep his cards close to his chest, but he takes in Zenyatta’s unrushed and open body language and decides the hell with it. He already knows something’s up anyway. “So I kind of maybe started adopting a kid this week.”

“Ah,” is all Zenyatta has to say.

“Yeah,” Jack sighs. He scrubs a hand across his eyes and resets his glasses. “Got a home visit thing in the morning. Something for CPS, I guess. But no one told me anything about it other than the date and time. And I’m not finding anything about how to prepare for it.” Jack starts to gesture angrily at his laptop and halts with a hand hovering in the air, sudden epiphany crashing into his brain. “Hey, wait. You adopted Genji, right? You’ve been through this.”

Zenyatta chuckles. “Genji is actually a long-term foster placement with me. It works better for both of us that way. He says that it would be ‘weird’,” he flexes his bony fingers in air quotes, “to have someone a mere ten years his senior try to be his parent.” Jack rolls his eyes at that and Zenyatta’s mouth twitches. “I know. But the terminology makes a difference to him. And really, the role I take in his life is more of a teacher and mentor than a parent. So in some ways, he is correct.” Zenyatta takes a sip of his tea. “But as for your question, yes. I have been through home visits, though I would guess our situations are a bit different.”

“Probably,” Jack concedes. Zenyatta gives him the barest lift of an eyebrow, which Jack knows to translate as encouragement. So Jack takes a deep drink of his coffee and elaborates. “The call on…God, what was it, Saturday morning? It was from my goddaughter. Her parents died in a house fire. So I went up there and got temporary custody of her. They’re doing a home visit tomorrow morning, and I just want to know what to expect.”

“I see. That is a very admirable thing you are doing, Jack.”

“Says the guy that’s already done it.”

“I did not start with the expectation of taking long-term custody of a child. I planned on being a very temporary emergency placement when I could on our days off. It seemed the least that I could do.”

“The least you could do?” Jack interrupts before he can stop himself. “Sorry, you don’t need to answer that.”

“It’s fine, Jack,” Zenyatta says. “I will make the same deal with you as I made with Genji when he first came to me. Ask anything you like and I will do the same in return. If you ask something that I do not wish to share, I will tell you as much. I trust you will do the same if I overstep in my questions.”

“All right.” Jack says, a little reluctantly.

“I grew up in an orphanage,” Zenyatta says. Jack’s eyebrows shoot up but he holds his tongue so Zenyatta inclines his head and continues. “After I left and achieved some stability, I decided I should give back in the same manner as those who raised me had done. I signed up to be a foster placement. I thought I would have enough time on our days off to provide a safe place in an emergency.”

Jack barely stops himself from asking how Genji came along in that case. He’s definitely not a temporary placement, considering he’s been in Zenyatta’s care for years.

Zenyatta give him one of his infrequent smiles. “You may ask.” Jack has no idea how Zenyatta can sense these things, but this is not the first question that Jack hasn’t had to ask to get answered. “Genji...well. He was a unique situation that I could not decline when approached by his case worker. I don’t think any of us actually expected it to work long term. But at the time, Genji needed short-term stability in an environment that he could handle. And that, I could provide. Normal family environments were not something that he was able to stomach in that phase of his life, and my household is anything but.”

Jack nods thoughtfully. “Sounds like our situations are more alike than I thought. I sure as hell never signed up for this and I definitely can’t see anything past short term at this point,” Jack replies. He hesitates awkwardly, wanting to ask more about Genji’s past but knowing that it’s just idle curiosity at this point.

“Jack.” Zenyatta reaches across the table to take Jack’s wrist in a firm grip. “No matter the doubts that plague you, you are doing the right thing.” Jack will never understand how his partner manages to sound so wise beyond his years. But he tries to take comfort from the encouragement all the same.

“Thanks, Zenyatta,” Jack says seriously, staring down at the table. “It’s just…” Jack sighs, one question burning foremost in his mind. He trusts Zenyatta will tell him to back off if it is too much, even if he can count the number of personal conversations they’ve had through the years on one hand. “Beyond the home visits and whatever other hoops there are to jump through, how do you make it work? With the long hours and overnights and all of it?”

“We have a very good friend with two kids of his own that lets Genji stay whenever he needs to, regardless of whether or not I’m at work. Genji spends a lot of his time there, even though he has proven himself trustworthy of staying nights alone by this point. Do you have anyone to help you out with…?” Zenyatta trails off with an inquiring lilt to his tone.

Jack obligingly fills in the name. “Hana.”

“Do you have anyone to help you out with Hana? She must be staying somewhere tonight, unless she’s old enough to handle being alone.”

“No. God, no. She’s twelve.” Jack shakes his head. “She’s not staying through the night alone for years. Especially not in my crappy apartment building. She’s with a friend of mine.”

Zenyatta gives him an approving nod. “And this friend, could they help you in the future? If not, I’m sure I could arrange to introduce you and Hana to mine. He is always willing to help out.” He pauses and tilts his head. “Well, once you get past the grumbling.”

Jack cringes at the idea of meeting a stranger. The thought of having to talk to one long enough and in enough detail to find out if he could leave Hana with him makes Jack immediately nauseous. “No, no. I’m sure Reinhardt will be willing to help. And if not, I’ll figure something out.”

“Well, the offer stands.” Zenyatta says. He drains his mug just as the radio goes off for another call, putting an end to their conversation. Jack scowls to himself, questions still tumbling over each other in his mind. But he figures that he can find a way to ask more about it later.

The call is blessedly quick and follow on ones are scarce for once. They find themselves with time on their hands at the station, so Jack tries to sleep and ends up tossing and turning most of the night. Insomnia has never really been an issue for him, but he’s having a hard time shutting his brain down and can’t stop worrying about everything. It occurs to him he and Zenyatta didn’t get around to discussing actual home visit details, but he doesn’t want to wake the man up now. Besides, one more hour and he’ll be off and cleaning his apartment for the visit anyway. Maybe he’s just working himself up over nothing.

He rolls off the bed and checks his phone for new texts from Hana; he’d fielded a few early in his shift, one including a picture of an actual home cooked meal that made him laugh. There’s nothing new. She’s probably asleep, or at least he hopes so. It’s six in the morning, after all. She should not be up yet, especially after the funeral yesterday.

Jack is just about to start the coffee maker in the station kitchen when the radio goes off. He braces both hands against the counter to sag against it and groans. An hour before shift end and he knows that this pretty much kills getting off on time. Especially when he hears them being called out to sit standby on a structure fire. Fuck. How bad was his apartment when he left? He’s certain there are dishes piled in the sink and dirty clothes on the bedroom floor. And, oh yeah, no food anywhere to be found. This is not going to end well.

Jack hauls himself into the driver’s seat as Zenyatta climbs in alongside him. “What time is your home visit this morning?” Zenyatta asks.

“Nine.” Jack pulls out into the early morning traffic and navigates towards the office building that is burning. “I hope we’ll get relieved soon.”

“Yes, hopefully,” Zenyatta says as Jack pulls up to the fire. They hop out to go check in with the chief and let him know where they are staged. “If not, I’m sure they will understand.”

“Right,” Jack says, not bothering to keep the deep doubt out of his voice. He pulls his phone out to send a quick text to Reinhardt. He’s usually awake by this hour in this morning, and hopefully working on his manuscript that he blew off to come to San Francisco. He makes a quick call to the CPS number Samantha gave him for LA, trying to let someone know what’s happening, But all he gets is an answering machine so he scowls and leaves a message.

Jack leans back against the ambulance and watches a firefighter demonstrate how to vent the roof of the office building to another standing by his side. He can’t be certain from this distance, but Jack is pretty sure it’s Bastion and the new probie from the other night. Their tall and broad builds underneath all of the equipment look about right for them at least. 

Jack watches them work as he tries to think of a way to reopen his conversation with Zenyatta while they have time. Zenyatta clearly welcomes his questions and Jack knows he won’t judge him if he asks something he shouldn’t, but his tongue ties itself in knots nonetheless. Everything he thinks of sounds stupid in his head and he can’t make himself say any of them. He folds his arms across his chest and hunches in on himself as they stand side by side in silence. It should not be this hard to start a conversation with the man he works with twelve hours a day. Maybe Ana’s right—he has become a first class hermit after all. 

Three dull and excruciating hours of waiting later, they’re finally relieved by medics from the next station over. Jack drives back to the station to turn their ambulance over to the day crew as quickly as he dares. He throws Zenyatta a short goodbye over his shoulder as he darts out the door as soon as he can. He’s already late and he’s not going to make himself later by changing or showering, despite the fact that he smells faintly like smoke from the fire.

Jack parks his car haphazardly and shoves the door to his building open as hard as possible to get the sticky front door to cooperate. He sprints up the steps and opens the door to his apartment, an apology already formed on his lips, when he takes the full force of Hana slamming into his chest.

“You’re here!” she says, burying her face in his shirt despite the smell. “Reinhardt said you got stuck at a fire,” she whispers, voice muffled by the fabric. Jack can still make out the slight wobble to it despite the volume.

He kicks himself for not thinking about that one. He should have texted her. Of course this was going to set off alarm bells for her. He’s also thinking now that he really should have taken the time to shower or at least change. This can’t be good for Hana.

“Hey,” he says as he wraps his arms around her as tightly as he dares. “I’m okay. Really. I’m sorry I didn’t text.”

“It’s okay,” Hana says as she pulls back. “Reinhardt said it’d be fine.” Jack smiles. Reinhardt has a way of somehow being very subtly convincing in his reassurances when he needs to be.

Jack keeps an arm wrapped around Hana’s shoulders as he looks up to find the CPS agent he needs to apologize to. He just about falls over in shock instead as he glances around. His apartment is pristine, cleaner than it has ever been. No dust, no dirty dishes. The windows practically shine and are wide open, letting in the fresh air. Even the carpet is spotless. And possibly most overwhelming, there are flowers everywhere. The arrangements Hana brought home from the funeral are all displayed throughout the place, making it look like something out of a magazine. Jack can even see a few through the open bedroom door, where the bed is neatly made with clean sheets and blankets.

Jack tries to keep the look of disbelief off of his face as he steers Hana towards the tiny kitchen. He can see Reinhardt and a woman he doesn’t recognize sitting at the table, mugs clutched in both their hands. A full carafe that Jack also doesn’t recognize sits between them and Jack squints at it suspiciously. Sure enough, a quick look at the counter confirms that his broken coffee maker has been replaced with some space-age looking monstrosity.

He’s not sure who’s to blame for the transformation, but he’d put money on either Ana or Reinhardt. In fact, it’s likely it was some combination of the two of them. He’s torn between the impulse to chew them out for putting themselves so far out for him and the intense rush of gratitude that floods his chest. He decides on the spot they both deserve whatever reward he can afford. 

He tries to shrug off his surprise and steps up to the table. “Hello, sorry I’m late,” Jack says, extending his free hand to greet the CPS agent. “I tried calling the number Samantha gave me, but I just got an answering machine.”

“Yeah,” she says, her stiff spine not wavering as she gives his hand a delicate shake. She tilts her head, looking down her nose at him despite the fact she’s a good two feet shorter seated. “That goes straight there unless someone is in the office. We try to discourage late call offs of these things. Especially initial visits.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Really, I had no way to prevent this. I should have been home two hours ago.”

“I know, Mr. Morrison. Mr. Wilhelm here explained.” Jack can feel icy chill rolling off the woman and knows that despite everything Reinhardt did, he’s still losing points here. Jack wishes they could have Samantha back.

Jack takes a seat at the table after extracting himself from Hana, pushing her gently towards the last free chair. “So where do we start?” he asks. He’s suddenly overcome by the desire to get this over with and get this woman out of his crappy apartment, since they’re already off to a bad start. He doesn’t want this to get any worse.

“I need to take a look around. Make sure that everything is up to code, safe, and suitable for Hana to live here temporarily,” the agent says, putting heavy emphasis on the last word. “I understand that you are looking for a more suitable place to live. Do you have any options lined up yet?”

“Uh…not yet,” Jack blinks and sits back, caught off guard. He has two months, right? He just got home like five minutes ago, almost straight from San Francisco no less. When was he supposed to have found a new place already?

The agent gives a disapproving hum and Jack’s heart sinks even further. Hana fidgets in her chair, clearly getting the same vibe, until Reinhardt pats her arm gently with a big hand and she stills. The agent doesn’t appear to notice, attention focused on staring Jack down. “And where is Hana staying while she is here?”

Jack wraps his hands around the mug Reinhardt slides over to him to hide the fine tremors starting up in his fingers, trying to ignore the pressure headache building behind his eyes. He does his best to sound like he has everything under control, channeling all of his old military instincts. “She’ll have the bedroom. I’ll sleep out here until we find a new place.” Hana whips her head around to protest, but Jack silences her with a stern look.

“And when you work?”

Jack falters. He can’t just offer up Reinhardt without having asked first. And despite what he said to Zenyatta earlier, he’s not sure that he can dump that responsibility on his old friend. Especially with no warning.

But Reinhardt beats him to the punch. “I will be staying with her,” he offers up with no hesitation, covering Jack’s stumble easily. “I work from home and can easily keep an eye on Hana while Jack works.”

The agents turns to raise an eyebrow at him. “Have we run a background check on you yet, Mr. Wilhelm?”

“Not yet,” Reinhardt says, clearly unconcerned. “But I will happily provide you with any information that you require.”

“And will you be staying here or will Hana be staying at your house when Mr. Morrison works over night?” the agent asks as she pulls out a small pad and makes a note.

“I will be staying here,” Reinhardt says, as if he and Jack have discussed this. ”Otherwise you would be needing to see my house as well, correct? And why add more home visits, when I can easily stay here?” Jack has no idea where Reinhardt got his information, but he wishes he’d found that source in his fruitless search. It would have been nice to know, considering he’d almost offered to have Hana stay at Reinhardt’s instead of inconveniencing the man even more.

The agent nods, finishing her note and getting to her feet. “I’m going to take a look around now,” she says. Jack jumps to his feet to show her around, even though the apartment layout is pretty self-explanatory. Jack tries to remember her name as he does so, but he’s pretty sure that she never introduced herself. He hopes she’s just doing the initial visit and they’ll be working with someone else through the process, because he really misses Samantha’s easy confidence and helpfulness right now.

She looks around the living room, taking in the ancient TV and the old DVD player that works only every other time. At least his couch is fairly new and actually pretty comfortable. Sleeping there won’t be too bad until he finds a new place. All in all, it doesn’t look too bad. Especially with all the flowers brightening the place up.

The agent then moves to the kitchen, opening up all of the cabinets and drawers. Jack tries to keep a straight face when he sees the cabinet he uses as a pantry is stocked full of snacks, cereals, rice, pasta, and easy dinner kits. It usually contains some granola bars, protein bars, a couple of jars of peanut butter. And maybe some crackers, if he remembers to buy some.

If the pantry shocks him, the fridge and freezer just about knock him over. He shoots Reinhardt a look behind the agent’s back as she looks them over. Reinhardt just gives him an innocent shrug. The freezer, empty but for an ice cube tray in its natural state, now contains what looks like homemade frozen meals. Foil covered casserole dishes line one side of the freezer while the other is jammed full of what looks like soups or sauces in deli containers.

The fridge looks more like what Jack remembers his parents’ fridge back home on the farm looking like than his own. The little drawers are bursting with fruits and vegetables, milk and juices lined up on shelves, even a carton of eggs sits neatly on a shelf. And the rest is stocked with what looks like other essential odds and ends that Jack never has the presence of mind to buy.

At this point, Jack is absolutely certain Ana broke into his apartment sometime during the week. No way did Reinhardt have time to do all of this in the past fifteen hours while he was also watching Hana. He wouldn’t put it past the man to have spent the entire night cooking to stock his freezer; the sheer amount of groceries Reinhardt had pulled out of his truck make much more sense in hindsight. But Hana probably took too much of his attention to explain the entire apartment.

“So Mr. Morrison, have you enrolled Hana in school here yet?” the CPS agent asks as she moves on to the bathroom. The room is too small for Jack to follow her in and see what changes have been made in there in his absence.

“We’re going Monday,” Jack answers on impulse as she leaves the bathroom, taking a page out of Reinhardt’s book and trying to sound like that’s been his plan all along.

The agent hums again as she looks over the bedroom. This room at least still looks like he remembers it, just far cleaner than normal. Then again, this is the room he probably should have transformed if he’d had time, given that it’s officially Hana’s now. Maybe he should take her shopping again this afternoon, though he shudders at the thought. Grab some new sheets and blankets at the very least. Those will travel easily to a new place.

“See that you do,” the agent says as she brushes past him. “And call our office when she’s enrolled. We’ll update the paperwork. Otherwise, you’ll be hearing from us soon.” She walks towards the door without a backwards glance and Jack follows her to open it politely.

He nods goodbye and closes the door behind her, squashing the strong impulse to slam it. He then flops heavily onto the couch, tossing his glasses onto the coffee table and dropping his head into his hands. His eyes are burning and his hands are still a little shaky, so he does his best to take a deep breath and calm his heart rate while Hana’s still out of sight in the kitchen.

“So who’s responsible for the makeover?” he sighs as he rubs his eyes. 

Reinhardt laughs from the kitchen as Hana flounces into the living room and drops something yellow and weightless onto his lap. “This was on the fridge when we came in. We did the cooking last night—“ Jack raises an eyebrow at her as he replaces his glasses and she waves a hand. “Okay, Reinhardt did the cooking and I tried to help. But the apartment looked really nice when we came in.”

Jack looks down at the post-it note. It contains only a hand drawn winking face and a little eye of Horus sketch in the bottom corner and he grins. He should have known Ana wouldn’t be able to leave well enough alone, much less pass up the opportunity for a little good natured breaking and entering. 

Still. Maybe Zenyatta’s right and the key to staying afloat in this life is having friends at your back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The length of this chapter is brought to you by Zenyatta. Seriously, he had a lot to say today.
> 
> Sorry about the slight delay! Rochnariel started a new job on top of her old job, bit of a soul eater. El just doesn't have her shit together.
> 
> Dualmode: Yes, Gabe works for CPS in LA. And we have so much more coming out of that refrigerator. We honestly have no idea how we've written so much already, since we're barely through the lead up. Little afraid of what it means for the rest of this monster. 
> 
> Guestis: Gabe and Jack’s separate or entwined pasts will all be revealed in time as well. =) 
> 
> Rei: about Hana's grieving, excellent point! She is, but she's also focusing right now on suppressing it and instead only thinking about all the things she needs to do right now. Kind of a defense mechanism. Also, Jack sucks at people so he's not so good at picking up the little hints that give away her real state of mind. 
> 
> All: thank you guys so so so much for all the comments and kudos! We're still just having a blast with this and are just super happy it's entertaining others too. We love you guys!
> 
> Also chime in if you have any favorite soap opera plot lines you'd like to see. =D


	12. freight trains and amateur shows

"No," Fareeha says, eyeing Jesse's hat. 

He tugs it down by the brim to settle more firmly on his head. "Yeah," he says.

Lena cocks her head as she goes through a few stretches in the grass next to him. "Aren't you worried you'll lose it?"

"Darlin', I've been wearin' this damn thing since I was born," Jesse says as he follows her lead. "I ain't gonna lose it."

Fareeha shakes her head as she turns to count up the people filtering over to their spot on the field sidelines. "So you're saying it's molecularly fused to your head?" 

"Somethin' like that," Jesse laughs. Lena contorts herself mid-stretch to try snatching it off his head but he shifts away from her at the last second.

"So long as you can promise me no one will mistake it for the frisbee," Fareeha says, glancing back with a sly grin. "Then I'll allow it. And if you do lose it, you'll have no one to blame but yourself." 

Jesse gives her a thumbs up before she turns away to herd the rest of the team into a rough circle around her as they each get started with their warm up routines of choice. Jesse tries to count up faces, some familiar from drifting through Fareeha and Lena's circles and some new, but he gets distracted by one woman in particular. She's as tall as he is and twice as muscled, and her short hair is a cheerful bubblegum pink. Jesse is not ashamed to admit he's intimidated, fiercely glad she's on his team and not someone he'd have to oppose. 

He leans over to Lena, trying to make it look like a natural stretch as Fareeha starts giving a rousing team speech. "Who's that?" 

Lena follows his gaze and grins. "Oh, that's Zarya. She's our tank," Lena whispers back.

Jesse gives her an exasperated look. "This ain't a video game, you know."

"Says you," Lena scoffs but cuts off when Fareeha levels a warning glance at them. Jesse shrugs sheepishly and Lena sends her a sunny smile but they subside. Fareeha splits them up onto opposite teams for their practice skirmish anyway.

The teams disperse and Jesse ends up beside Zarya as they walk to one end of the field. "Howdy," he says, tipping his hat.

She nods to him and then takes a second look at his hat, a deep laugh booming out of her chest. "Privyet," she says, sticking out a hand for a shake. Jesse takes it despite his instinctive fear for the bone structure of his fingers. But Zarya seems to know her own strength and grips his hand firmly without crushing it. "I understand you are filling our last roster spot, yes?"

"Yes, ma'am. Couldn't turn down a chance like this."

"Good," Zarya says with a decisive nod. "We needed someone else who is also tall. Even so, our teammates do not let anything stop them." She gestures downfield to where Lena is doing a few cartwheels in the other end zone. "Watch out in particular for Lena. She is very fast."

"Gotcha," Jesse says as they take their places. 

But even that warning isn't enough to prepare Jesse for the skirmish. Fareeha launches the frisbee toward their end to start the game and two passes later, Jesse ends up with it. He barely has time to plant his foot and scope out the field before Lena appears in front of him to defend. It's like he blinks and she materializes out of thin air, buzzing around him like a mosquito with no warning. He barely manages to keep the frisbee out of her reach and lofts it over her head to the next teammate down—and she disappears, sprinting toward the recipient almost as fast as the frisbee itself.

Jesse knows she's here partly on a track scholarship, but damn.

And it's not just her. Several members of the team are quicker on their feet than Jesse expected; Fareeha in particular jets around like she's rocket-powered. Jesse can move but he's nowhere near as agile as the rest. He takes comfort in the fact that Zarya is just as slow as he is, but her gameplay is yet another thing to behold. She's solid as a rock and cannot be moved or intimidated, using her height to its full advantage. He resolves on the spot to model his tactics after her.

Even though he's got some work to do to get ready for a real match, Jesse's having a blast. He might be panting for breath a bit, but he can't help grinning in triumph as he successfully keeps the frisbee out of Lena's grasp yet again. He feints left and throws his upper body hard to the right, just managing to arc the frisbee around her as she laughs. 

But he doesn't notice what amused her so much until he sprints forward and feels the wind through his disheveled hair. He slaps a hand to his head and sure enough, his hat is missing. He spins around to track where Lena went and spies it planted on her head as she cackles and zips away. "Hey!" he shouts after her. "That ain't the frisbee!" 

"Thought it was fused to you!" she calls back, grin on her face as bright as the sun as she darts after her next target. 

He turns toward Fareeha and spreads his arms in outrage, though his protest is mostly for show. She shrugs like there's nothing she can do, completely unconcerned. "I did warn you," she yells from her spot downfield. "And that counts as discouraging the enemy, it stands!"

Jesse growls and starts off after Lena until Zarya intercepts. "Come," she says, pointing him toward a couple players splitting away from the other team—likely trying to sneak around them. "We will avenge it. Take that one!"

Jesse nods and sprints after his target, trying to come around behind the player so he doesn't notice he's being flanked. He and Zarya are able to successfully circumvent the attempt, heading off both freewheelers and driving them back toward the main group. They force the other team to regroup and attempt a new strategy—which seems to involve their go-to play as Lena tries her best to shoot past them.

Jesse uses his long limbs to full advantage, stretching out to block her best routes and trying to force her into Zarya's path. But she surprises him again and hurdles his leg without breaking stride, sprinting by him into their end zone. Jesse sees Fareeha wind up and launch one hell of a huck toward her, trying to score the day's first point for either team. But Jesse can see the arc the frisbee will take and figures he's got one shot, sprinting into its path as he keeps his eyes glued to the disc. He throws himself into the air to try for an intercept.

But just as the tips of his fingers snag the frisbee out of its flight, he collides bodily with what feels like a brick wall. Jesse's on his back in the grass without any idea how he got there. He blinks up at Zarya, who's landed just as heavily—though at least she stayed on her feet. She huffs out a chuckle and reaches down for him. "It seems we had same idea," she says as she grasps the wrist he blearily offers and hauls him upright. 

He grins at her and holds up the frisbee, still clutched in his other hand. "Sure," he says, "but does this mean I won?"

Zarya laughs and claps him on the shoulder. "I believe it does," Zarya says as Lena zips up with wide eyes.

"You two alright?" she says, not even having the decency to sound winded. 

"Sure," he says as Zarya nods, waving the frisbee at her. "Got what I came for, didn't I?"

Lena sticks her tongue out at him, brightening as she turns to Zarya. "You bloody well leveled him, mate. That was an eye opener and no mistake!"

"Da," Zarya smirks, hands on her hips. "Now you have had proper hazing ritual. Welcome to our team."

"Thank you kindly," Jesse laughs as he brushes dirt off his pants. Lena swats some off his back and he tries to snatch his hat back as she leans in. But she skips back just in time, wagging her finger at him. She blows them both a kiss and runs off to regroup with her side as Jesse and Zarya grin at each other. He holds up the frisbee and winks at her. "Ready?"

"Always," she says and smiles as she lumbers off to take her position. Jesse lofts the frisbee downfield and takes off, exhilaration singing in his veins. He'll be feeling that collision later but right now all he feels is the thrill of success.

Right up until Fareeha and Lena do manage to sneak a point past them in the final minutes of the skirmish, that is. Fareeha has some kind of sixth sense to throw the frisbee not to where Lena is but to where she will be and the combination is almost unbeatable. But at least Jesse comes out of the match with a mental folder full of techniques to work on.

Zarya claps him on the back as they regroup with the whole team on the sidelines. "Do not feel bad," she says. "They are secret weapon for us, have never been shut out whenever we have practiced. I cannot wait to see them in real game."

"We'll be unstoppable!" Lena chirps, doing a little hop as she punches the air. 

Fareeha grins. "We will be a force to be reckoned with," she says proudly as she plants her hands on her hips and surveys the team. "Our first game is Wednesday night at ten thirty, so arrive early. If anyone can stay now, we will be discussing some strategy. If you have to go, see you at the game!"

A few team members split off but the majority mills around to wait for the discussion. They migrate off the field as the next team comes in for their practice and Fareeha chews on her lip as she looks around, likely debating a good spot to settle down.

"Anyone fancy a bite while we talk?" Lena pipes up. "I'm a bit peckish. And we know just the place!" She elbows Jesse playfully and he heaves a longsuffering sigh.

Fareeha laughs and turns the group toward the coffee shop not too far away, catching on right away. "Of course," she says with her own sly grin Jesse's way. "How could we go anywhere else?"

"You girls'll be the death of me," Jesse grouses but he doesn't hesitate at all. He glances back and sees Zarya pause though, looking like she's debating whether to join. "You comin'?"

Zarya hums. "I am not sure," she says. "I have some work I should probably not put off."

"Oh, come on," Lena hangs on her elbow. "We won't keep you too long, I promise. Come hang out for a bit."

"It really is the best coffee around," Jesse says, flanking her other side. 

"Among other things," Lena adds with a smile and Jesse huffs.

"Ah," Zarya laughs, apparently intrigued enough to follow the team and they fall into step beside her. "So there is more than just coffee at this place?" she asks as they enter the shop.

"Like you wouldn't believe, love," Lena laughs and Jesse shushes her while they push a few tables together to make a good meeting spot, determined to hold on to his dignity for as long as possible in front of new people this time.

"Y'all are just a barrel of laughs," Jesse says and his teammates all claim their seats. He jerks a thumb toward the counter. "Anyone want anything?"

"Get me a bagel, would you?" Lena clasps her hands and flutters her eyelashes in dramatic supplication. Jesse pats her on the head, pushing the hat over her eyes as she squawks. “Oh and a mocha with a shot of hazelnut and extra whipped cream.” Jesse casts his eyes skyward like he’s praying for patience and turns to the next person but Lena snags his sleeve, tugging him back around. “Actually, make it two shots of hazelnut.”

“Unbelievable,” he says and she grins brightly with no shame.

"Black coffee, please," Fareeha says as she leans her elbows on the table and gives Lena a fond look.

Jesse puts a hand to his chest. "Finally, a girl after my own heart."

"Oi," Lena laughs. "There's nothing wrong with drinking enough sugar to kill a man, mate."

Zarya gives Lena a disbelieving look. "You should maybe think very hard about what you have said," she says as Jesse takes a few more requests. She gets to her feet, turning toward Jesse. "I will help." He gives her a thumbs up and they meander to the counter. 

Hanzo looks up as they approach and does a clear double take. Jesse tries to straighten his shirt, but there's no getting rid of the grass stains or the mud rubbed into the fabric. He's struck by the sharp regret that he didn't go change before coming to the shop. He probably has grass in his hair. "What?" he asks, unable to keep the defensiveness out of his tone. 

"You look like you have been run over," Hanzo says, eyebrows climbing his forehead.

Mei sticks her head around the espresso machine and her eyes go wide. "What happened to you?"

Jesse jerks a thumb to his left. "She happened."

Zarya gives an unconcerned shrug. "Keep your head up next time."

"Oh, I plan to," Jesse grins. "Now I know that I'm in more danger from my own teammates than anythin’ else." As Zarya laughs, Jesse can't help but notice that Mei seems rooted to the spot. And her eyes are fixed on Zarya, who notices as soon as her chuckles die down. She returns the gaze with no small amount of interest, right up until Mei catches herself at the last second as the milk she's pouring into a steamer almost overflows and ducks back behind the espresso machine. Zarya’s broad shoulders slump a bit.

Jesse catches Hanzo's eye and grins, and one corner of Hanzo's mouth quirks up before he looks away and busies himself with the register. "What will you have?"

Jesse rattles off the laundry list of requests from the table before turning to Zarya. "Anythin’ for you?" Zarya frowns at the menus overhead and Jesse takes the golden opportunity. "Mei makes a mean cappuccino, y'know," he says just as she shift back into view to collect empty cups. Mei's face goes tomato red but she sends Zarya a shy smile. 

Zarya nods decisively and turns to Hanzo. "I will have that." 

Hanzo punches it in without comment as Zarya reaches into a pocket, but Jesse waves her off. "I've got it," he says, nodding to the other end of the counter—much closer to the espresso machine. Zarya gives him a knowing smile but doesn't protest at all and leaves him at the register. He can't make out their conversation over the hissing machine and he's not about to interrupt all of that bashful smiling, so he slouches against the counter and waits for Hanzo to fill a tray with the food. 

Hanzo must be of a similar mind since he's not exactly rushing through putting the order together. He hesitates as he sets a few small tubs of cream cheese on the tray and looks up at Jesse. "What game are you playing?"

"Ultimate," Jesse says. "Lena dragged me onto the team, guess they were down a person. Couldn't leave them in their hour of need."

Hanzo frowns. "Ultimate what?"

Jesse reels back in exaggerated surprise and Hanzo rolls his eyes, though his mouth twitches again. "Ultimate frisbee," Jesse says, slapping a hand over his heart. "Don't tell me you've never heard of it."

"I have not," Hanzo concedes. "A grave trespass, I am sure." He eyes Jesse's chest again and Jesse's stomach flutters, though he knows Hanzo's just cataloguing the grass stains. "Is it very violent?"

"No," Jesse says, chuckling. "Non-contact, actually. We were just goin' for the frisbee at the same time, didn't see each other."

Hanzo glances over at the table they'd come from before looking pointedly down the counter at Zarya, then back to Jesse. "You are possibly two of the most visible members of that group," he says, this time letting his mouth curl into a sly smile. Jesse's heart leaps into his throat.

"Well," he coughs, trying to swallow the elation of Hanzo honest to goodness smiling at him. "In my defense, Lena stole my hat."

"This is true," Hanzo says with a solemn nod. "I almost did not recognize you."

"I'll get it back if it's the last thing I do, don't worry," Jesse says, mock glaring in the direction of the hat thief who is still wearing her prize.

"I do not doubt that," Hanzo says, turning away to finish assembling the order. Jesse watches him go a little wistfully, wishing he could see that smile again. He notices Mei snatch up a sharpie out of the corner of his eye and scribble something onto the cup she then hands to Zarya with great care. That cheers him right up. Hanzo turns back and catches him smiling stupidly at the other end of the counter. "What is it?"

Jesse nods over at the pair. "Glad we convinced her to tag along, is all."

Hanzo glances down the counter and hums without comment. 

"What," Jesse straightens up. "You got somethin' against young love?"

"Of course not," Hanzo says sharply. "However, they have only just met, have they not? It seems...too early to be making assumptions." Jesse blinks at him and Hanzo huffs. "They have nothing upon which to base any connection as yet."

"And tomorrow it'll be two days," Jesse laughs to himself. He shakes his head when Hanzo gives him a blank look. "Never mind. You never hear of 'love at first sight'?"

Hanzo scoffs. "Children's tales."

"Maybe," Jesse shrugs, feeling his cheeks heat up. He has to look away, glances over at the table where Lena has set his hat down in the open seat next to her to wait for his return. He grins a little. "And maybe sometimes you just hit it off with someone. If it makes you happy, what's the harm in tryin' it out?"

Hanzo frowns down at the full tray between them. "And it is so easy to have conversations with a stranger? How does one even begin, without something in common?"

"Well, they've got a cappuccino in common now," Jesse says, nodding over at where Zarya is balancing the loaded drink carrier in one hand with ease. She has the single cup with what looks like a phone number, surrounded by cute little emojis, clutched carefully in the other. "It's a start. And I'm not sayin’ it's sure fire, every time. But sometimes it works out."

Hanzo regards him for a long moment. "Perhaps," is all he says as he pushes the tray toward Jesse. Jesse takes a chance and winks at him, laughing a little as Hanzo huffs. But that smile is creeping back onto his face and Jesse walks away feeling much lighter.

\--

Genji drops into the rickety club chair beside her with no warning but Sombra doesn't flinch, chuckling at his look of mild disappointment. It's not that she ever sees him coming, what with his devotion to become some sort of real life ninja. It's more like she just expects him to appear out of nowhere at any time these days.

"I enjoy how I brought you here to socialize and you are still only talking to me," he says as he eyes the table she's isolated herself at, filled with nothing but the drink she bought upon entry, her ever present phone, and the leave-me-alone vibe she's doing her best to exude.

Sombra shrugs. "Other people are boring."

"I am glad you do not think as much of me," Genji chuckles. He folds his legs underneath him and relaxes, taking advantage of the break in his garage band's amateur night performance at the local all ages club. "I thought you did not mind some of them?"

Sombra eyes the crowd, filled with the rest of Genji's bandmates and an assortment of vapid high schoolers that came to see them play. "Some of them are useful," she allows. Genji rolls his eyes. "Look. I'm here, all right? What more do you want?"

Genji's smile subsides a bit. "You know," he says, picking at the hem of his t-shirt. "You did not have to come if you truly do not wish to be here."

Sombra punches him in the arm and he yelps, rubbing at the spot with a theatrically betrayed expression. "You couldn't have made me if I didn't. I want to see for myself what you think passes for music around here." She eyes a couple of the band members that she knows from that hellhole of a history class and nods towards them. "And I mean, I guess some of them are ok. Bella's made it a point to call me Sombra in front of Anderson on a daily basis. That's been...nice."

"Is he still using the wrong name for you?" Genji frowns. He winks at Bella when she glances over at the two of them. 

"Sometimes," Sombra says. "When he 'forgets'. Not often enough to call him on it, but I doubt that'll last."

Genji makes a face. "I sense a war is brewing. I hope he knows it is one he will not win."

"He will soon enough," Sombra says, curling her mouth into a wicked smile. Just then her phone beeps so she swipes a finger across the screen, not bothering to hide it from Genji.

> vaquero >> i think i'm dying
> 
> sent << walk it off

Genji snorts in her ear, leaning on her shoulder to read the screen. "What has he done now?"

"I don't even want to know," Sombra says, frowning as a thought occurs to her. "This had better not be about his disgusting crush again."

"But The Roommate Situation," Genji waggles his eyebrows and Sombra can hear the capital letters, "is by far the best telenova currently produced! How can you not enjoy this drama?"

"Wrong," she says. "Because when I turn off the television, this one keeps happening." 

"Then you clearly lack good taste," Genji laughs, keeping his balance perfectly atop the chair when Sombra tries to elbow him off of it.

"That’s not the issue," she says dryly. "It's definitely the other way around. You two can text each other about it all you want and leave me out of it." She holds up a hand when Genji opens his mouth, eyes twinkling. "If I hear one more word about this, I'm locking you both out of your phones."

Her phone beeps again as Genji sighs like one dealt a devastating blow.

> vaquero >> no really  
>  vaquero >> i got hit by a freight train today

Sombra blinks as Genji does a double take.

> sent << you'd better not be texting me from a fucking hospital  
>  sent << i am NOT breaking that news to gabe
> 
> vaquero >> haha no  
>  vaquero >> more of a human shaped train but still

Genji lunges for the phone but Sombra plants a knee in his chest to hold him back, sending a simple message with one hand as she holds it away. "You have your own!" she whines as Genji subsides, feigning a pout.

> sent << ???
> 
> vaquero >> started ultimate today  
>  vaquero >> collided with one of my teammates, this giant russian girl  
>  vaquero >> she's awesome but she fucking crushed me

Genji laughs as Sombra grins, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth as she taps out her response.

> sent >> i love her already

"See?" Genji says as he yanks out his own phone. Sombra automatically watches him type out of the corner of her eye as he makes a request for photographic evidence of Jesse's embarrassment. "Jesse is still more than capable of inflicting catastrophes upon himself that are not just from his attempts at a love life. Besides, we both respect your preferences too much to flood you with our romantic gossip."

Sombra raises a very unimpressed eyebrow.

"Usually," Genji amends with no shame. He glances back across the room and grins at Bella again as Sombra jabs at his shoulder. Genji blocks it without looking.

"I know," she huffs. "Sometimes it just seems like that's all there is to life. And does he have to be so annoying about it?" she asks, scowling at her phone. “You at least shut up when I tell you to. Mostly.”

"Now that, I believe, is the sacred duty of all siblings," Genji says serenely. "It is some sort of law. He is merely being so kind as to give you the full experience of having an older brother."

"How would you know?" Sombra snorts. She looks over at Genji after he's quiet for an unusually long moment; he's staring at the floor, eyes a little distant. He shakes himself and gives her a lopsided, if somewhat sad, smile.

"I had a brother," he says.

Sombra squints at him. "Jesse doesn't count."

"That is debatable," Genji says, smile broadening into something a little more real for a split second. It fades again as he continues, "but no. I said had. I am referring to...before."

Sombra stares at him. "There's something about you I don't know?" she finally says.

"In all fairness, I do not often discuss that time."

"I know everything about everybody," Sombra says, injecting an extra degree of disbelief into her tone. "And there is something about you _I don't know_."

Genji laughs again, if still subdued. "It must be a great personal crisis to discover this."

Sombra sticks her tongue out at him but then hesitates. "Did you, uhm. Were you close to him?"

"As children," Genji says, inclining his head. His shoulders slump and Sombra bites her lip. "Very close. But as we grew older, he devoted himself to his—" Genji's expression darkens as he spits the words "—duty to the family." He takes a moment to compose himself before he goes on. "It would be an understatement to say we drifted apart."

"Ah," Sombra says, floundering for a response. Familial relations are not her forte. She knows she's lucky Jesse is so easygoing and that Gabe, for all his thunder, puts up with a lot. Though she also knows even they must have their limits and she won't be at ease until she finds them. But this? Sombra has no experience falling out with someone after growing up alongside them. That would have required having someone to grow up with in the first place.

But Genji goes on before she can find anything to say. "Still. It has taken me years and much help from Zenyatta to see it, but I can now understand he was as much a victim of their machinations as I was." He pauses again, looking down at the floor. His next words are so soft she almost can't make them out. "I hope he is well."

They sit together quietly for a moment, the still eye at the center of the club’s storm of conversation. Sombra bites her lip again, almost hard enough to pierce the skin. "Would you like me to find him?" she offers. Genji startles, looking up at her as if he'd forgotten she's there. "It wouldn't be hard to track him down," she says when he stares blankly at her. "If you wanted to know."

"Oh," Genji says. He looks away again. "Thank you for the offer. But no." He holds up a hand when she opens her mouth. "I already know where he would be,” he says, a touch of bitterness reentering his voice. “If he has indeed followed the course our family laid out for him, he is attending their ivy-league school of choice on the east coast and preparing to take over the family’s business operations one day. And I cannot see him deviating from the path. He was fully devoting his life to them when I...left. I think I would prefer to leave this in the past. Live in the now, as Zenyatta would say."

"Whatever you want," Sombra shrugs. "Offer stands." Genji gives her a small nod as Bella walks up and places a hand on his shoulder, pointing toward the stage. Genji smiles softly at her as he gets up, squeezing Sombra's wrist before he goes. Sombra sees him casually wrap his fingers around Bella’s hand before they separate to take their places on stage.

Sombra curls up in her chair, frowning as she pulls her forgotten drink closer to her. Her insatiable need to gather information tugs at her and she's tempted to pull all of these loose threads regardless of his request. She doesn't know Genji's old family name but it wouldn't be that hard to find, if she discretely hacks the right records. But on the other hand, Genji has probably been the most accommodating out of all of her LA connections to her silence about her own history. She has a pretty good idea now as to why. Perhaps she owes him enough after all to let this matter lie buried in the past.

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points for catching the Disney reference.
> 
> Guestis and Whyllas_Torch: More on the Shimada Bros is coming, we promise. There may or may not be a prequel in the works while we're at it. =D
> 
> IndecisivePsyche: The CPS agent is an OC. Symmetra is coming! 
> 
> BishieT: They’ll communicate… eventually. We swear. We wouldn't tag the relationship and then not include, wouldn't do that to you. It's just going to take some time. =)
> 
> Smolborb: We're really glad that chapter helped. Fiction can make real life feel a lot better. It might not be real, but it always has roots there no matter how crazy the concept of the story. We both have stories we reread because they make bad days better. And Rochnariel constantly needs to be reminded that not all of humanity sucks, so we're glad that we could help you with that. Your review meant a lot to us and came at a good time too, so thank you. We appreciate it greatly.


	13. case closed, apartment hunting hell

Jack stretches as he climbs out of his car, trying to shake some of the exhaustion from his limbs. He leans back in to grab his coffee mug, full from the fresh pot he’d made at the station just to get him home, before he locks up. Not that there aren’t several better options in the lot to steal than his car, dusty and dented as it is. He fantasizes about a nap before forcing the idea from his mind. He needs to get Hana enrolled in school this morning, not to mention get a jump on apartment hunting. The nap will have to wait, likely until it’s time for bed anyway.

He takes a long gulp from the mug as he shoves open the door to his building. He sees Bastion at the mailboxes and sends him a little wave as he trudges up the stairs. Bastion waves back, looking as tired as he feels. Last night had dragged on, call after call coming through without much chance for rest in between. He’s running on almost no sleep, and it looks like Bastion’s in the same boat. The fire department must have been run just as ragged as they had.

Jack expects the scene he’s come home to every other morning this weekend: Reinhardt hunched at the tiny kitchen table over his clunky, old fashioned typewriter, keys clacking to match the tempo of the quiet classical music in the background. Instead, silence and an empty table greet him when he opens the door.

Hana’s stretched out across the couch, asleep with her arms wrapped around her bunny and covered with her new pink comforter. Reinhardt’s massive frame is squeezed in on the floor next to her, back propped against the couch and legs wedged under the coffee table. He seems to be asleep as well.

Jack wishes he knew how to take pictures with his phone. He squints at it, flipping it open and turning it this way and that. Come to think of it, he’s not even sure the stupid thing is capable of taking pictures.

Jack shuts the door as softly as he can but Reinhardt opens his eyes as soon as the latch clicks. Jack watches him glance back over his shoulder before extracting himself from the coffee table with great care.

“Hey,” Jack greets in a low voice when Reinhardt joins him in the kitchen. Jack nods toward the couch where Hana hasn’t even twitched. “What’s up?”

Reinhardt looks over at her, mouth twisting a little sadly. Then he pulls Jack into the bedroom with one giant hand hooked in his elbow. Probably a good idea considering the normal volume of the man’s lungs.

“Last night was…difficult,” Reinhardt says.

Jack raises an eyebrow over the rim of his mug mid-sip. He sits down on the bed, flattening the messy covers, as he wills the caffeine to work faster.

“I believe Hana is beginning to accept that her parents are really gone.” Reinhardt sits down next to Jack, the bed dipping violently beneath him. “She was quiet all night. She went early to bed, but woke again and again. I would guess it was nightmares. She came out of the bedroom around four in the morning, told me that she could not sleep. So we sat on the couch and watched a documentary until she fell asleep again. She woke up twice more, turning back and forth.” He huffs a subdued little chuckle. “She almost fell off the couch at one time.”

Jack sighs and drops his head into his free hand. He knew that getting no texts last night was probably a bad sign.

“We knew this was coming, my friend,” Reinhardt says as he places his hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“Right,” Jack breathes. How do you help a kid through losing both parents? Jack can feel an echo of panic kick up in his chest; he is not equipped for this. Why did he think that he could handle this kind of trauma? Maybe Hana really isn’t better off here with him.

Jack hears movement in the living room and sits up as the noise gets closer.

“Hey, kid,” Jack greets Hana as she shuffles into the bedroom. She has the comforter wrapped around her shoulders like a cape and she’s still hanging on to her bunny. She sits down on Jack’s other side and drops her head onto his shoulder.

“Shouldn’t we be getting ready?” she asks through a yawn.

Jack hums as he twists his arm around her shoulders. Reinhardt leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Heard you had a rough night,” Jack says instead of answering her question. He feels her shrug through the thick blanket. 

“Wasn’t great,” is all she says. “But you told the CPS lady today for school. So don’t we need to get going?” Now that Jack is listening for it, he can hear the strain she’s trying to keep buried in her voice.

“Nope,” Jack makes the snap decision. He’s starting to think they both need to take some time and actually deal with what happened before they crack. They’ve been too busy jumping from one obstacle to the next over the past week, juggling checklist after checklist for both the funeral and for CPS. Neither of them have taken any time to process that Yuna and Jisung are really gone.

Jack’s beginning to suspect Hana’s been doing it on purpose. Avoiding the reality for as long as she can.

Jack looks over to see Hana’s chewing on her bottom lip. “Did you want to go to school today?” he asks. His gut says she needs the time, but he wants to make sure she’s on the same page.

“Well,” Hana hesitates, wrapping her arms tighter around herself as she looks away. “Not really. But won’t we get in trouble with CPS?”

“I think,” Reinhardt breaks in, “that they will understand.”

Jack tugs up one side of the comforter where it’s slipping off Hana’s shoulder. “Yeah. Today’s ours, we’re taking it off. We’ll get you enrolled tomorrow.”

Reinhardt stands, giving them both a fond look as he stretches a little. “I shall see myself out. I have oatmeal in the crockpot for you,” he says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “And some toppings in the fridge. Eat before you go back to sleep, the both of you.”

Jack nods to his friend as he leaves. Hana slumps bonelessly against his side and heaves a deep sigh.

“C’mon, kid,” Jack bounces his shoulder to urge her up. “Let’s get some breakfast and find a movie to watch or something.”

Hana nods and trudges after him into the kitchen without a word. Jack hopes today will help her process. She’s being far too quiet and docile the past few days for the goddaughter he knows and loves.

Hours later, Jack stirs at the feeling of his phone buzzing again and again. Hana is out cold, sprawled back across the couch with her feet in his lap. The menu screen plays on the TV, testament to their victory after forcing the DVD player to work. Jack shoves his glasses up his nose and grabs his phone, answering the unknown number with a frown.

“Morrison,” Jack says curtly. Hana stirs at the sound of his voice, blinking at him a little bleary eyed.

“Mr. Morrison,” says the voice on the other end. “This is Officer Sanchez with San Francisco PD. We spoke last week regarding the Songs’s house fire.”

“Yeah,” Jack says, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Do you have the results?” He sees Hana sit bolt upright and he waves her down, trying to get her to relax. She ignores the gesture and watches him intently, concern lining her face.

“We do,” Sanchez says. “Final results came in this morning. I called as soon as I got a chance, figured the kid could use some closure.” Jack bites his tongue, letting the man dole out his pleasantries. He just wants to know what happened, but biting this guy’s head off isn’t going to do any good. “The fire was started by some faulty wiring in the house. Air conditioning clicking on in the middle of the night caused the initial spark.”

Jack sighs. Faulty wiring. No foul play, nothing more than a pretty standard problem in older homes. Jack tries to remember if his friends had the wiring inspected when they’d moved in but shakes off the thought. It’s irrelevant at this point, no use laying any blame when nothing will change the past.

Jack tunes back in to the officer’s monologue, realizing he missed the rest of Sanchez’s spiel. “Did you have any questions, Mr. Morrison?” he asks.

“No,” Jack says on a gusty breath. He’s seen this before, if not from this side. He’s just glad to have a definitive answer. “Thanks.” He hangs up and gestures for Hana to move over closer. She all but throws herself across the couch to sit beside him, folding her legs beneath her as she resumes her earnest stare.

“That was San Francisco PD,” Jack starts before Hana cuts him off with a nod.

“So we’re not in trouble with CPS.” She bites her lip. “Since I wasn’t in school today.”

“No,” Jack says, trying to infuse more confidence into the word than he actually feels. “I told you, I’ll smooth that over if they need us to. We’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Hana snuggles back down into her blanket. “Then what was that about?”

“They got the final results from the fire investigation,” Jack says and Hana’s eyes go wide. He takes a deep breath and delivers the news straight like he would give any bad news at work. “It was faulty wiring. Sparked in the middle of night and caused the fire.”

Hana is quiet for a few minutes, frozen staring at him like a deer in the headlights. Then she swallows hard. “So that’s it? Just some stupid wires?” She sniffs, blinking hard as her eyes start to water.

Jack immediately kicks himself and reaches over, wrapping her up in a hug. He’s got to get better at this whole comforting thing. It’s never been his forte, nor even his first instinct. But Hana deserves better than his ineptitude.

Hana buries her face in his shoulder as she lets herself cry. When she tapers down into hiccups and pulls back, she scrubs at her eyes and looks up at him. “So that’s it. Case closed.” Her voice is flat.

Jack sits up, moving his glasses to wipe his own eyes. “Yeah. Nothing else they can do. It can happen with old houses.”

Hana scowls but it doesn’t last long, expression devolving back into grief. “Okay,” she sighs, shoulders slumping as she pulls up her legs to wrap her arms around her knees. “Did,” Hana starts, pausing to bite her lip. “Uhm. Did Reinhardt fix his wires? He told me he works on his house. Did he fix that too?”

“I’m sure he did. Want to call and ask him?” Jack doesn’t think Reinhardt will mind. Hana nods and Jack digs out his phone but she waves him off, leaning forward to snatch her own off the coffee table. He huffs a laugh and gets to his feet. “I’m going to figure out some dinner while you make sure.”

Jack smiles as he listens to Hana’s side of the conversation while he contemplates their pantry. He’s just been reheating the meals that his friends left for them over the past few days, but he thinks he should make an attempt at cooking them something. They can’t live on the frozen meals forever.

Jack grabs one of the meal kits Ana bought and squints at the instructions. It looks easy enough. He can probably figure this out.

An hour later, Hana almost falls off her perch on the counter as she laughs at him, though it’s still just a touch hysterical. Jack shrugs, a little amazed himself at the results of his kitchen experiment. Apparently he really can’t figure out something as simple as a kit. Jack scrubs at the burnt remains on the bottom of the pot while they wait for delivery. He has no idea what went wrong and Hana is equally lost if at least entertained. But the black mess fused to the pan leaves no room to pretend it’s anything but failure.

Jack flicks water at Hana as he leaves the pan to soak and goes to pay the delivery guy. He can’t believe it but he’s rethinking asking Reinhardt for cooking lessons. It’s not like he can raise Hana on take-out alone, though he doubts she’d protest.

Jack carries the bag into the kitchen where Hana’s already grabbing plates. It seems his gut instinct was right and today has done her some good. The circles under her eyes are clearer and her smile seems more genuine than it has in days. Jack knows this won’t be a magic fix, but hopefully talking about her parents and taking some time off to breathe is a good start. And he’s sure, however hard it was for her to hear, some closure about the house fire helped as well.

By the time they both head to bed, Hana is openly mocking his ancient DVD player and TV. She threatens to “accidentally” trip and fall into them so he’d have to get a new one. He gives her a good-natured shove toward the bedroom. 

Jack wakes up to the shrill sound of the alarm clock, now haunting his living room to leave Hana a few minutes more of peace. But the pipes gurgle through the thin walls as the shower runs; she must be feeling better, already awake and getting ready for school. He’d stayed up late last night listening for any distress from his goddaughter, but none had come. He hopes she had a much more restful night of sleep. 

He certainly feels better, despite the inevitable kinks and twinges from a night on the couch. He’ll take any small favors on a day that he has to deal with strangers—and Ana—without the comforting shield of his job to hide behind.

Jack groans as he stretches, feeling his spine pop as the shower shuts off. He tries and fails to figure out how to work the fancy new coffee maker and hears a small laugh behind him as he scowls at the thing. Hana shoves him aside, already dressed and ready for the day. Jack watches as she hits a few buttons and the damn thing starts working like a dream.

“Really, Jack.” Hana rolls her eyes as she digs into the pantry for the cereal. “It’s not that hard.”

“Like hell it ain’t,” he grouses. How a twelve year old who doesn’t even drink coffee can work the damn thing, Jack will never know. But she’s gotten it to work with no issue every day over the weekend when he’s failed to even turn it on. But he knows the coffee it delivers will be delicious, so he lets it go. “You ready?”

“Yup,” Hana says around a mouthful of cereal as she leans against the counter. Jack pushes her towards a chair at the kitchen table. She makes a show of great resignation as she goes.

“Sit down while you eat, for the love of God. We leave in ten.” With that, Jack commandeers the bathroom to get himself at least somewhat presentable.

They pull up in front of the public middle school half an hour later. Hana gets out, clutching her new backpack crammed full of the school supplies they’d picked up over the weekend. Jack’s just happy he remembered to get her school things before today. He’s counting that as possibly his first win in this whole guardianship thing.

Jack follows her into the school and towards the office, gripping his travel mug with white knuckles. He glances around, feeling a little lost. But Hana marches directly into the main office and up to the receptionist there.

“Hi,” Jack starts but has to clear his throat mid-word. He takes a breath and silently curses his isolationist lifestyle that makes talking to anyone outside of work hard and starts over. He can do this. “Hi, I’m Jack Morrison. We’re here to get Hana registered.”

“Of course,” the receptionist replies with a bland smile, dumping a towering stack of paperwork into his arms. “If you can make a start on these, one of the guidance counselors will be out to get you and your daughter shortly.”

Hana snorts. “He’s not my dad,” she says, correcting the receptionist with a smile. “He’s my godfather.”

“And your legal guardian,” Jack adds at the confused look the receptionist gives them. He nods to her when she gives a quiet little ‘ah’ and directs Hana to the hard plastic seats lined up along one wall, doing his best to balance the next small forest he has to sign in the crook of his elbow. 

He’s finishing up the last few pages as Hana hangs over his shoulder and makes unhelpful additions when a tall, deeply tanned man walks up to them. “Mr. Morrison, Ms. Song? I’m Mr. Lloyd. I’ll be Hana’s guidance counselor. If you’ll follow me, we’ll get her all set up with classes and ready for the day.”

Jack stands and tries to juggle his coffee mug and the paperwork to shake the man’s hand. He loses his grip on some of the papers and they go flying. Hana laughs at him even as she helps pick up the scattered pages.

“Smooth, Jack,” she grins.

“Quiet, you.” Jack knocks her shoulder playfully as he crouches down to gather the rest. They stand back up to see Lloyd smiling at them. Hana grins back, hefting her backpack. Jack does a quick count of the paperwork stack as they follow Lloyd into his office.

“Sorry for the short notice,” Jack says as settle in. “This wasn’t exactly a planned move.”

“It’s no problem,” Lloyd says easily, turning to Hana. “We set up a preliminary schedule based on the records your old school sent over, but here.” He hands a thick course book over to her. “Take a look at this and see if there’s anything you really want to take. We can try to work it in.” Hana nods and immediately starts flipping through it.

Jack hands over the completed school paperwork along with the copies he’d brought of all the official custody forms, then gets to work on the remaining pages. Lloyd checks everything over and enters some information in his computer as Jack finishes. He’s never seen his signature this many times over since that frantic drive up to San Francisco; it’s starting to look fake to him.

“So this is the schedule we drew up to start,” Lloyd hands a printout over to Hana and she sets the course book down to look it over. Jack leans over his chair’s armrest to see it as well. “Anything you think you’d like to change?”

Jack sees what looks like a pretty normal core of classes, along with gym and an art class. Hana twists her mouth, glancing up at Lloyd. “Could we switch art with the programming class?” she asks.

“Sure,” Lloyd nods with no hesitation and Hana relaxes. “That shouldn’t be a problem. Follow that schedule this morning and we’ll get that switch made. Just swing by at lunch and pick up the new schedule,” he says as he makes a note on his computer. “All right. Well, we’ve got one of the girls in most of your classes waiting to help you get around today. I’ve got a few more things to discuss with your guardian here, but otherwise you’re all set.”

Hana stands and grips her backpack tightly. “Okay.”

Jack gets up and gives her a hug before she can leave. “Call me if you need anything.”

“You’ll need to come here and I’ll help you get a hold of Mr. Morrison. Cell phones need to be off or on silent during the day, and you can’t use them unless it’s an absolute emergency,” Lloyd says as he gets to his feet. “Just ask any of your teachers for a pass. If you have any problems, my door is always open. Okay, Hana?”

Hana gives him a small nod. “Okay,” she says again.

“Let me introduce you to Efi.” Lloyd leads Hana out of the office and Jack catches a glimpse of a skinny, dark skinned girl as the guidance counselor introduces them. Hana looks back and waves before she follows the girl out into the hall.

“All right, Mr. Morrison,” Lloyd says as he comes back into his office. “That takes care of the formalities. But if you’ve got a few minutes, I like to spend some time with the parents of all our new students to find out if there is anything we can do to help or anything we should be aware of. You don’t have to tell us anything, of course. We just want to make sure we can help all our students, academic issues or otherwise.”

Jack tries to formulate the words in his head before speaking. “Hana’s parents passed away last week in a house fire. She wasn’t home at the time. She called me from the police station so I went to San Francisco to get her.” Jack take a deep breath, trying to get through the explanation quickly and repressing the emotions that rise in his chest at the words. “I’m her godfather. Her parents wanted me to take care of her if anything happened. So yeah, here we are.”

“So Hana might need some space during the day to process all of that,” Lloyd says, his tone understanding without being condescending. Jack can’t help but like the guy. “She really is welcome to come down here anytime, it’s what I’m here for. And we have a psychologist on staff, if that would help.”

Jack nods. “We need to get meetings with the CPS child psychologist set up as part of the custody arrangement, but I’ll let you know if she wants to talk to someone else as well.”

“Are there any problems we should know about up front? Any difficulties?”

Jack shakes his head before he thinks about the plethora of texts he usually gets from Hana when he’s out of her sight. “She’s been texting a lot. I think it helps her to know that I’m not going to die while she’s not with me.”

Lloyd nods, his concern clear. He makes another note on his computer. “We really will help her get in touch with you during the day if she asks. But the phone needs to stay put away.”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to her if it becomes an issue.” 

“Anything else?” Mr. Lloyd asks.

Jack shakes his head, nothing else coming to mind.

“Here’s my card.” Mr. Lloyd hands Jack a business card. “Call me if you think of anything else you’d like us to help with.”

Jack thanks the man and shakes his hand, without incident this time. Then he heads out to meet up with Ana and kick off the hell that is apartment hunting, knowing Hana at least is off to a good start today.

Ana’s waiting for him in the parking lot to the first complex Jack picked out. She hands him a paper cup as he gets out of his Civic and he raises an eyebrow, looking back at the near empty travel mug he’d been reaching for. 

Ana shrugs. “You’re welcome.” Jack laughs and leads her into the office. 

Two tours of glorified closets later, they decide to break for lunch. Or, more accurately, Ana decides they need a break as Jack’s about to kick his own tires out. She hauls him into some hipster café by his collar and makes him wait until they get their lunch out onto the patio before he explodes, culling his black mood with precise withering looks.

He hurls himself into a chair and scowls at the table, arms crossed over his chest. “This is why I live in that shithole, Ana.”

She raises an unimpressed eyebrow over her eyepatch as she calmly organizes her tray. “I’m glad you’re so fond of it,” she says, then pauses before giving a consenting shrug. “Although I will admit, it is somehow nicer than those we saw. I don’t know how they expect to charge so much for what should barely pass as mouse holes.”

“It’s the zip code,” Jack sighs. “But moving out of the area means a much worse school district, and I want to keep her where she’s at.”

Ana nods. “That’s good thinking, Jack. But I suppose it does limit your apartment options. Have you considered the building you are in now?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, giving his head a little shake. “But I can only really afford the one bedroom. Especially once I start adding what Hana’s going to need into my budget.” He sits back, poking at his food without eating it. 

Ana picks up her cup with both hands, giving him an even stare over the rim. “You have time, you know. I thought your deadline is November, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want to wait until the last minute,” Jack snaps. Ana tilts her head forward, reproach clear, and Jack subsides right away. But he hunches his shoulders and sulks a little anyway. “I just want to get this right. It feels like I mess up so much, and CPS is already breathing down my neck. I need to have some progress before I talk to that woman they sent again.” He can’t meet Ana’s gaze, scratching the toe of one shoe against the table leg. “I don’t want Hana to have to choose between school and a nice home. If that means searching for the right spot until we’ve seen every damn apartment in this school district, so be it.”

Ana rests a hand on his arm, drawing his attention up to her involuntarily. “Jack,” she says and he can feel his cheeks redden from the warmth in her tone. “It might be hard for you to believe, but you are doing a wonderful job so far.”

Jack shrugs, embarrassed. “You have to say that. You’re my friend.”

“I have to say,” Ana laughs. “You should know I follow no such obligation, regardless of whether I should or not.”

Jack gives her a rueful smile. “Still. I just,” he starts, pausing to take a deep breath. He pulls off his glasses and rubs at his eyes. “I just don’t get it. It still doesn’t feel real sometimes. I mean, how on earth did Hana even happen?”

“Well, Jack,” Ana says and Jack shoves his glasses back on to eye her, not liking her tone. “You see, when a man and a woman love each other very much—“

Jack drops his head on the table and groans. “That is not what I meant.”

“It’s what you asked,” Ana says, clearly unconcerned. Jack sits up and glares at her as she shrugs. “It happened and you are doing the best that you can,” she goes on, serious again. “Have some faith in yourself, Jack.”

Jack deflates, staring at the table. “That’s not something I’ve got much of these days.”

“I know,” Ana says. “That’s why you have us.” She pats his arm and picks up her cup again. “You can’t burn yourself out on the first day, is what I mean. Something will come up.”

Jack raises his gaze to stare at her, sensing something underhanded in her tone. He’s known Ana a long time and can usually pinpoint when she’s got something up her sleeve. Figuring out exactly what it might be is another story. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ana shrugs, taking an elegant and unhurried sip. “I just have a feeling.”

Jack scowls at her. He’s not in the mood to play her cryptic riddle bullshit today. “Whatever you say. You done? We’ve got more to see before I have to pick Hana up.” He grabs her empty tray along with his mostly full one and dumps them into the return station before she can stop him or make him eat. Suddenly the hell that is apartment hunting looks way more appealing than this conversation.


	14. french pastry: situation critical

Jesse kicks open the door and trudges into the dorm, a cursory check confirming it’s empty as he expects. He tosses his bag onto his desk and slumps into the chair as he pulls his hat down over his face. It’s been a hell of a day, made longer by the late night. But Jesse can still feel the thrill of their first ultimate victory and doesn’t regret a second of it.

He kicks his feet up onto the desk’s surface and groans. Even the thought of hauling himself up into his loft is too much for him right now. But getting the jump on any of his remaining homework is equally unappealing. Just a few minutes of peace is really what he needs right now. A little time to relax in the unexpected quiet, both in the hall and from the dorm next door. Mako and, more likely, Jamie must not be home. He’s going to take advantage of this for sure—

His phone chimes.

Jesse groans and scrabbles blindly through his pockets for it. “Lena, I love you but I ain’t bringin’ you coffee tomorrow,” he says as he digs it out. But the message waiting for him is not yet another request for him to grab extra caffeine, or what passes for it by Lena’s standards, on his way to class in the morning.

> sombra >> he’s making macarons

Jesse blinks at the message before he swears under his breath. He throws himself out of the chair and grabs his bag, dumping the contents out across the desk. He starts shoving the things he thinks he might need over the next few days back in with one hand as he taps out a reply, trying to mentally juggle all of his urgent assignments as well as the bus schedule to Pasadena.

> sent << mail me some

Sombra apparently doesn’t appreciate his sarcasm because his phone rings right away. “Are you kidding me?” she snaps as soon as he answers, not letting him even say hello. “Get on the damn bus!” 

“The hell do you think I’m doin’?” he says as he grabs his keys and bolts for the door, pulling himself up short as he grabs the frame for balance. He glances back toward the other empty side of the dorm and chews his lip. 

Then he darts over to Hanzo’s desk and grabs a blank post-it note from the neat stack along the shelf. He traps the phone with his shoulder as he writes out a quick note and contemplates the orderly desk. Jesse sees some familiar lines of blue ink in the corner and shifts a notebook, unearthing the still unfinished dragon drawing Hanzo had consented to show him some time before. He grins a little and sticks the note to it with care. Then he spins on his heel and shoots out the door. “There is one more bus tonight, right?”

“Yeah,” Sombra says. “Okay. Good.”

She sounds rattled. Jesse’s anxiety ratchets up another notch. He tries to think back to the last time there’d been an episode warranting a pastry as complicated as macarons and comes up empty. Gabe’s mood can be accurately measured by the complexity of what he bakes—anything that requires at least seven phases of sifting is bad news.

“What happened?” he asks as he hits the street and hoofs it for the bus stop.

“I don’t know,” Sombra growls. He can picture her fisting a hand in her hair, probably pacing as she speaks. “He had a home visit or something, I beat him home from school. When he did come in, he dropped everything in the hall—on the floor, Jesse.” 

Jesse grimaces. “That ain’t good.”

“You think? Just wait. Then he walked straight out into the garage and locked himself in there for an hour. I haven’t gone in there to see but I definitely heard yelling. And some crashes.”

“Leave it,” he says. “I’ll get it this weekend. Keep him from goin’ back out there if you can, the mess won’t help him none.”

“If I can,” Sombra sighs. “Anyway, then he came back in and started on this. He hasn’t said a single word the whole time. And the kitchen is a disaster. He’s not cleaning as he goes.” She pauses. Jesse imagines she’s peeking back into the kitchen to check out the situation, since he knows she’s too smart to call in the cavalry in front of Gabe. Then again, Gabe’s probably not in any mood to notice. She could send a parade through the kitchen without a word from him right now, if it’s as bad as Jesse expects. “He’s still sifting,” she reports. “I’m going back in.”

“Don’t try to engage,” Jesse advises her. “Just stick around, do whatever needs doin’. I’m on my way.”

“Got it. Don’t get lost.”

He ignores the halfhearted jab. “Buena suerte.”

“Gracias,” she says, not bothering to hide the relief in her tone. She hangs up before he can say anything else.

Jesse scowls at the empty street as he shoves his phone back into his pocket. Then he thinks again and yanks it back out, alerting Lena he’ll be missing classes tomorrow. The least he can do is warn her she’ll need a temporary partner for the one day. He’ll need to get a makeup lab session but it’s the last thing on his mind right now. This kind of crisis is one he’s not willing to let slide.

His phone chimes as the bus finally pulls up. He climbs on and plants himself in the back corner before checking it.

> tracer! >> =( =( =(  
>  tracer! >> ill get u lecture notes mate no worries
> 
> sent << thanks

Jesse yanks his hat back down over his eyes. Bus rides always seem ten times longer when you’re itching to get somewhere so he does his best to nap the trip away. What little rest it affords him does nothing to sooth his unease by the time the bus rolls into his stop. He jogs through the darkened streets and vaults onto the porch without missing a step, plowing through the front door. 

He can see Sombra’s head snap up as she stands at the island, big mixing bowl between her hands. Jesse hurls his bag onto the couch and steps into the kitchen, taking the long spoon out of her hand. He nods toward the stairs and she gives him the most pathetically grateful look he’s ever seen from her before she bolts from the kitchen. Jesse starts stirring what must be some fruit-based filling on autopilot as he turns toward the stove.

Gabe stands in front of it with his back to the rest of the room, arms crossed over his chest. His shoulders are tense and his spine so rigid it looks like a stiff breeze would snap it. He’s staring into the oven as if it contains some scene only he can see instead of innocuous macaron shells. He shows no sign he even noticed Jesse’s less than subtle entrance. Jesse can see why Sombra’s unnerved. Gabe hasn’t had a day this bad since she’s been here. 

Jesse doesn’t say anything, waiting for Gabe to turn around and notice him. He knows from experience that if Gabe’s stuck in the past—particularly his military days—startling him won’t improve the situation. He doesn’t have to wait long before the timer goes off and Gabe jerks like he’s been shot. Jesse sighs.

Gabe lunges into motion, yanking the oven door open so hard the hinges whine. Jesse sees him reach in and check the shells before he grabs the tray barehanded, ignoring the oven mitts Sombra must have set down next to the oven. Then he shoves the next one in and stomps over to the counter with the hot tray of the baked shells. Jesse skirts around the island and sets the timer for him. He goes back to the bowl and leans back against the island, waiting for Gabe to notice him in his own time.

It doesn’t take as long as Jesse expects, which he takes as a good sign. Gabe slams the tray onto the counter and shifts over to what must be the first one. He starts prying the cooled shells off with precise and careful motions and Jesse steps over to start matching them up in size. Gabe pauses and tilts his head, giving him a sideways glance. Jesse gives him a humorless smile as Gabe grunts and goes back to the tray.

They assemble the macarons in practiced motions, even though it’s been a while since the last time. They make short work of each of the trays as they cool; Gabe works in silence and Jesse doesn’t try to start a conversation. Yet for once, they never get in each other’s way. Jesse does abandon him when they hit the last tray to set the kettle to boil and go do the dishes, keeping an eye on the reflection in the dark window as he scrubs down all manner of bowls and utensils. 

He watches as Gabe stops, leans forward with his hands propped on the island counter. Hangs his head and takes a deep, steady breath. Jesse snags the last tray and the piping equipment Gabe left strewn across the counter and finishes the dishes while Gabe stands there. Once everything’s in the drying rack, he sets two mugs asides and starts brewing some tea before he moves over and wraps his arms around Gabe’s back. 

Gabe sighs again and turns around inside Jesse’s embrace, winding his arms around Jesse in return. They stand there in the middle of the kitchen and neither of them says a word.

Eventually Jesse pulls back, pours the tea into the mugs, and tugs on Gabe’s sleeve to lead him out into the living room. He absently notices his bag is gone as he hauls them over to the couch. Gabe drops onto it like a puppet whose strings have been cut, taking the mug Jesse hands him on autopilot and wrapping his hands around it. Jesse scans the channels as he takes a tiny sip from his own mug and makes a face at it before lucking out with a marathon of Iron Chef reruns. He tosses the remote onto the coffee table and slumps back on to the couch, dropping his head onto Gabe’s shoulder.

Gabe is motionless for a few minutes, eyes fixed on the TV Jesse knows he’s not seeing and taking absent sips out of the mug every few minutes. Then he slowly pulls his arm out and drapes it around Jesse’s shoulder, dragging him into a tight embrace. Jesse hugs him back and hangs on for the long haul.

It’s probably not the best or most recommended form of therapy, but it works for them. After a while anyway.

Two episodes in, Jesse hears clicking on the stairs. He tilts his head as little as possible and sees Peacekeeper slinking down them, peering around the banister with caution. Jesse smiles a little and sets his mostly full mug on the table next to Gabe’s empty one, sticks out his free hand and gestures the dog over. Peacekeeper perks up and jumps carefully into his lap, sprawling across both him and Gabe as he settles down. 

Jesse’s lost track of how many episodes they’ve gone through when Gabe finally starts to unwind. He shakes his head at a few things the challenging chef does and Jesse grins a little to himself. Another episode yields the sign Jesse’s been waiting for. Gabe mumbles, “How much time is left,” perfectly in sync with Bobby Flay and Jesse relaxes. They’re on the upswing if Gabe is present enough to make fun of mindless television. After another moment, Gabe picks up his free hand and starts absently stroking Peacekeeper’s sleek fur. Jesse smiles.

He doesn’t try to stay awake much longer, now that he knows the storm has mostly passed. The next thing he knows there’s weak sunlight lighting up the insides of his eyelids and he’s got the unsettling sense he’s being watched. Someone is also poking him in the shoulder. He cracks open an eye, trying to stretch his neck without moving too much.

Sombra leans over the couch, still poking insistently. Reaper is perched on the coffee table just behind her, giving him an equally unblinking stare. He squints at them both and Sombra raises her eyebrows, glancing sidelong to Jesse’s right. He tilts his head to look over and can’t help the fond smile that tugs at his mouth. Gabe is slouched back with his mouth slightly open, snoring softly. His arm is still around Jesse’s shoulders which explains why his right side is numb. 

He gives her a nod and she relaxes, straightening up. She holds up her phone and shows him the note tapped out on the screen: ‘i called him off work’. Jesse uses the hand that isn’t pins and needles to give Sombra a thumbs up and she shrugs. She hefts her backpack but hesitates, giving him a considering look. Jesse shakes his head so she flaps a hand at him and heads out the door. 

Jesse refocuses on the coffee table. Specifically on Reaper as the cat gives Peacekeeper a contemplative look that Jesse doesn’t like one bit. The dog somehow squirmed around enough through the night to end up upside down as he’s sprawled across Jesse and Gabe’s laps. Jesse can see it unfolding in his mind’s eye; if Reaper decides to start something, it’s going to end badly for all four of them. 

Sure enough, the cat pads forward and stretches out a paw to poke at the leg Peacekeeper has thrown over the side of the couch. Jesse sticks out a leg to push Reaper away, but the cat sinuously slinks around the offending foot and shoots forward to slap Peacekeeper’s dangling paw. The dog explodes into wakefulness, rolling off the couch with a thump and lumbering after the cat the second he spots him. Gabe jerks awake and Jesse can’t help but laugh as he shakes out the arm Peacekeeper’d kicked with his flailing. He’s kind of glad it’s numb.

“The hell?” Gabe grumbles as he slaps a hand over his face and rubs his eyes. He sits up and groans, stretches his back until it pops. 

“Just the animals,” Jesse says as he yawns. Gabe hums. Jesse puts a gentle hand on Gabe’s shoulders. “Any better?”

Gabe shrugs, the muscles still tense under Jesse’s fingers. Finally, he sighs. “Some,” he allows. He hauls himself to his feet, groaning as he goes. “What time’s it? Gotta get to work,” he says. He still doesn’t meet Jesse’s gaze. 

Jesse pokes him in the calf with a foot. “No, you don’t.” Gabe scowls but Jesse goes on before he gets his mouth open to protest. “Called you in sick already. Be awful weird if you showed up after that.”

“I’m not sick,” Gabe says stubbornly. 

Jesse huffs. “You tellin’ me you ain’t goin’ to play hooky and spend the day with your only son? Glad to see where I rank around here.”

Gabe laughs, voice still rough. “The fuck are you doing here, anyway?” he asks, rubbing his eyes again. He stands just in front of the couch like he’s not sure where to go.

Jesse pulls himself to his feet, giving Gabe another sideways hug as his only answer. He heads into the kitchen to get the coffee started and to whip up a batch of mankind’s best culinary invention: pancakes.

They spend the morning doing mindless chores and talking about inconsequential things. Well, Gabe asks him starter questions and Jesse talks at length about his classes, his friends, anything that’s light and rooted firmly in the present for Gabe to listen to. Jesse finishes a story about Lena’s latest prank on Fareeha and Gabe laughs, a full bodied thing deep from his chest that eases a lot of Jesse’s remaining concern. 

Gabe gets a sly look in his eye and raises his eyebrows, the picture of innocence. “And how’s your roommate?” Jesse feels his face heat up and buries it in his hands. Gabe chuckles and claps a hand on his shoulder. “So that’s still a thing, huh?”

“For me,” Jesse agrees. “Ain’t sure he’s a big fan of me, honestly.”

“Oh yeah?” Gabe frowns. “That’s hard to believe.”

Jesse gives him an embarrassed shrug. “Don’t rightly know, I guess. I don’t see him too much, hard to tell. Guess he’s busy.”

Gabe nods. “Well it is college, not a daycare.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Jesse says and Gabe chuckles again.

“Give him time,” he says as he puts away the last of the dishes from the drying rack. “He might surprise you. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.” His voice trails off on the last word and he pauses as he closes the cupboard door. 

Jesse eyes him, not really sure what’s come over him now. But if it’s something from the past again, he doesn’t want to let Gabe go too far down that path. “I guess,” Jesse says and Gabe shakes himself at the sound of his voice. “Gettin’ the sense what he really needs is a friend.” Gabe turns around and gives him a look. Jesse holds up his hands a little defensively. “So that’s all I’m tryin’ to be, I promise.”

Gabe nods with a little smile, the shadows receding from his eyes. “I have faith in you, kid.”

“That makes one of us,” Jesse grouses and Gabe shakes his head, still grinning. 

But it’s not until they take Peacekeeper out for a long, meandering walk that the heart of the issue finally surfaces. They’re moving along quietly, keeping pace as the dog pauses to sniff every blade of grass he come across, when Gabe says without preamble, “Had a home visit yesterday.”

Jesse glances at him, a little wary, a little worried. When Gabe doesn’t continue he prompts, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Gabe sighs. “This kid…” He stops walking, staring down at Peacekeeper as the dog wraps his leash around a small tree. “I think we’re going to have to take him, Jesse.” Jesse’s shoulders slump. Those cases are hard on everyone involved, no matter what. He doesn’t say anything, letting Gabe go on in his own time. Gabe sighs, the breath gusting out from deep in his gut. “The dad’s a piece of shit. A real jackass, totally unfit. He’s going to fight but we have a solid case. Kid’s going to be a mess but he’s miserable.”

Jesse nods, untangling the leash. “That’s too bad. Better off in the long run, probably. But hell right now.” Gabe nods. He starts walking again, staring at the sidewalk. Jesse watches him out of the corner of his eye. As bad as cases like this can be, this isn’t Gabe’s first rodeo. “But I’m thinkin’ there’s more to it than just that.”

Gabe doesn’t say a word but his shoulders hunch and his walk turns into more of a stalk. Jesse lets him be and follows, trying to keep Peacekeeper walking in a straight line. Two blocks later, Jesse’s resigned himself to that being the end of the discussion but instead Gabe breaks his silence.

“The dad,” he says, slowing his steps so Jesse can catch up. “He looked just like Ja—“ Gabe chokes a little on the word, cuts himself off. He takes a deep breath and starts again. “Just like a guy from my old squad. Every time I’d see him I thought it was…” Gabe scrubs a hand down his face. Jesse bumps their shoulders and Gabe sighs. “I kept thinking it was my squad mate. And then he’d do this shit, this absolute fucking bullshit. To his own damn kid, no less,” Gabe snarls, biting off his words.

Jesse slings his arm around Gabe’s shoulders and they stop on the sidewalk, standing together while Gabe takes deep breaths. “It wasn’t him,” Jesse says, though he knows Gabe doesn’t need his affirmation.

“Sure didn’t help,” Gabe growls. “Especially since if I ever do see that asshole again, I will punch him in the face. So I already had the impulse every time I laid eyes on the bastard.” 

Jesse frowns as they start moving again, turning back toward the house. “Yeah, that sounds like a problem. Could you ask to hand this case over—”

“No,” Gabe says. “I started it, I’m finishing it. Kid deserves that much.” He sighs again. “I don’t want the reminder, and I don’t want to think about Jack doing that kind of shit. He would never, for God’s sake. I just…” Jesse frowns as he watches Gabe’s face twist through a complicated parade of emotions. He knows Gabe has no lingering fondness for any of his old Army teammates, but he’s never spoken at length about any of them. And this Jack guy…Gabe’s only mentioned him a few times throughout the years, and Jesse honestly can’t tell if he used to be in love with him or hates him the most of them all. Possibly both. Gabe shakes his head, drawing Jesse out of his contemplations. “It took me by surprise yesterday. I won’t be unprepared again. I’ll finish this case and then I’ll be fine.”

Jesse nods, though he doubts it’ll be that easy. But Gabe’s been through this before, so he has to give him the benefit of the doubt. It’s Gabe’s fight; he’s just support. They round the corner and come to a stop in front of the house. Jesse catalogues some yard work they’ll need to tackle this weekend while Gabe stares vacantly at the lawn as Peacekeeper rolls in the grass. 

Gabe straightens up and shakes his head once like he’s done with his thoughts. He turns to Jesse and one corner of his mouth quirks. “You want to hear what we’re thinking for this year? Sombra’s got a few ideas that’ll blow everyone else out of the water.”

Jesse lets a slow smile spread across his face. Gabe might still not be okay but he’s held himself together for the last six years with grit and determination alone. All Jesse knows how to do is be there for him and hang on for the ride. And they’re getting closer to equilibrium—especially if Gabe is in the mood to talk about Halloween. The entire month of October is a national holiday in this house, after all.

“Like anyone else in this damn neighborhood tries to beat us, you walkin’ specter,” Jesse says. “She agree to jump out at folks now that I won’t be here?”

“Not a chance,” Gabe says, shaking his head. “She’s got plans to automate everything.”

“What the hell?” Jesse laughs.

“It’s going to be the best fucking display we’ve ever had,” Gabe rubs his hands together, glee seeping into his tone. Jesse listens attentively as he starts describing the plans and Sombra’s innovations, not bothering to wipe away his big sloppy grin as warmth spreads through his chest. Seems like they’ll come out on the other side this time just fine after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've been looking forward to this chapter for a long time. It's one of our favorites.
> 
> guestis: Hopefully you don’t need all of those nine lives. We swear we’re not trying to kill you.
> 
> BID: Believe us, the Shimada Bros reunion will have all the details. All of them. We're not sure we know how to write any other way. Also yes, Genji has some physical evidence of his past. It’s not as prominent as in the game, seeing as he’s not an actual cyborg here, but it is there. We just haven't seen him from the eyes of anyone that doesn't know him well already, so it doesn't stand out to any of them. Once he starts meeting new people, those details will become clearer in the story. And the prequel that he is pretty much strong arming us to write will really address it. =)
> 
> sigmatimelord: That sounds awesome, we had no idea those things existed. We'll have to have somebody tell Jack about that. =) Thanks!


	15. birding and misplaced notes

Jack walks back into the kitchen with slow steps to avoid any obstacles like walls or furniture so he doesn’t have to look up from his book. He comes to a stop when he bumps into the counter and only then does he put it down. He sidles over to the coffee maker and pours himself a refill, careful not to dislodge the post-it note stuck to the front that points out the buttons Jack needs to press in the correct order to get it to start in the morning. 

This post-it note, with its giant block arrows drawn out with many colors and decorative sparkles, has saved his life four times this week alone. It deserves better.

He gives the coffee maker an absent minded pat as he picks up his book and heads back toward the couch that he is becoming one with. He’s brought up short when he almost runs over the giant pink blanket burrito that stumbles out of the bedroom at long last. 

He steps out of Hana’s way as she trudges into the kitchen, not sure she’s even noticed his presence yet. “Well it’s about damn time,” he says. He leans against the wall and takes a sip of his coffee. One corner of his mouth quirks up around the mug rim when she turns around to shrug at him and runs into the kitchen table.

“It’s Saturday,” she says around a jaw cracking yawn. “And sleeping sucked last night. I’m not getting up any earlier than I have to.”

“I figured,” Jack shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to give you crap for it. After all, back in my day—“

“Nope,” Hana cuts in as she flaps a hand in his direction. She drops into a chair, folding her arms on the table and dropping her head on top of them. “Not hearing it. It’s too early for this.”

Jack amps up his disbelief for extra theatrics. “It’s almost eleven!”

“Like I said,” Hana’s voice is almost completely muffled by her arms. “Way too early.”

Jack heaves a sigh and sits down at the table with her, holding his mug between both hands. Hana tilts her head sideways so she can make a face at the true crime mystery novel that’s sitting on the table next to her. Jack chuckles. “Don’t go for that kind of thing?” Hana turns her unimpressed stare on him instead. Jack shrugs. “Suit yourself. Some of them are pretty good, believe it or not.”

“Not my thing,” Hana says. “Tell me you’ve got other things to do around here.”

Jack furrows his brow. “Huh?”

“Do you just spend your weekends reading? Or do you do fun stuff too?”

“Hey,” Jack protests. “There’s nothing wrong with reading.”

“I know that,” Hana says. She shrugs without lifting her head. “I like reading. I’m just not going to spend a whole weekend doing it.”

“Well, it’s a little too late now for what I thought we could do today,” Jack says as he leans back in his chair. 

Hana straightens to sit upright. “What was it?”

“I thought we could hit the bank—“ Jack halts when she groans and slumps back over dramatically. “What?”

“That’s even worse,” Hana whines.

“Yeah, but we should probably sort out your accounts sooner rather than later,” Jack says, unfazed by her complaints.

“Don’t you have, like,” Hana waves a hand and scrunches up her face. “Guardian powers? Whatever it’s called. Can’t you handle it for me?”

“I mean,” Jack says, biting his lip. “Wouldn’t you rather know what’s going on?”

“No,” Hana says with emphasis. “Tell me when I grow up.”

“Hana,” Jack scowls. “You’ll be better off knowing. You’re not waiting until you move out to learn about this crap.”

“Ugh, fine,” Hana says. “Just not right now, okay?” She sits up and ducks her head, blinking in what she clearly hopes is an endearing manner. “Please?”

“You need to work on that,” Jack laughs. But maybe it won’t hurt to let her be a kid for a little longer after all. Is twelve too young to have to care about financial records? He has no idea. “But fine. I wanted to make sure you’ve got a fund for college started—”

“Great,” she says quickly. “You do that.”

Jack heaves a put upon sigh. “Alright.”

“Yes!” Hana exclaims as she rights herself again. She sobers immediately. “Wait. Was that your only plan?”

Jack folds in on himself in an embarrassed shrug. “It probably would take a while, okay?”

Hana groans with even more flair than before. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I am definitely not going until I’m at least thirty now.” 

Jack makes a face. Maybe twelve really is too young. “What would you rather do then?”

Hana slumps in the chair, drawing her knees up to her chest to rest her shins against the edge of the table. She shrugs, a bit listless. “Don’t care,” she mumbles. “Just not that.”

“No,” Jack says. “None of that. What would you usually do on a day like today?”

“Well,” Hana says, looking him over with a critical eye as she frowns a little. “To be honest, I’d probably game most of the day. Well, at least until Mom dragged me out to help with yard work.” Hana bites her bottom lip as she looks down at the table. Jack scoots his chair over to wrap an awkward arm around her shoulders. She twists to give him a hopeful smile, if still subdued. “You wouldn’t happen to be hiding a console anywhere around here, would you?”

Jack blinks at her. “Gaming. As in…video games?”

Hana gives him one slow nod, almost comically serious. “Yeah. I’m really moving up in the StarCraft ranks, it’s kind of my thing.” She hesitates when he stares at her. “But unless you’re hiding a way better computer under the couch or something, that can wait. So, uhm. Console?”

“Video games,” Jack repeats.

“Yes,” Hana says.

“But you’re twelve,” Jack blurts and immediately knows he’s doing this wrong when Hana bristles. 

“There’s nothing wrong with video games at any age, Jack,” she says, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at him. She’s making a serious effort to sound like the more reasonable person in this discussion and Jack’s man enough to admit she’s winning. Time to try retaking the maturity high ground.

“Maybe so,” he says, shoving his chair back and dumping his mug in the sink. “But it sounds like you need equipment for that, and right now you’re out of luck. How about some fresh air instead? There’s no yard work around here but it doesn’t mean we can’t get outside.”

Hana stares at him like he’s suggested the new fun idea of a root canal. “What’s wrong with the air inside?”

“Everything,” he says. “Get something to eat and go get dressed. You’ve just decided we’re going hiking.”

“No,” Hana whines, flopping back over the table and doing a damn good impression of a coyote in its death throes. 

“Yes,” he says and plants his hands on his hips as he fights to keep the amusement off his face. “Food, teeth, clothes, shoes. Let’s roll.”

For all the fuss she put up, Hana drops her protests once Jack pulls into the lot for the nearby canyon park. Either she’s resigned to her fate or the twisting paths that wind up the mountain side really have piqued her interest. He’ll take the peace whatever the reason and he tosses her a water bottle with a smile. She rolls her eyes but takes off alongside him with an eager step. 

They spend a good deal of time just wandering in silence, punctuated by the constant click of Hana’s phone as she takes picture after picture of the views. 

“Okay,” she says, with all the airs of a heavy confession. “You were right. This is awesome.”

“Thank you,” Jack nods with equal ceremony. 

She grins, going right back to her photography. “How’d you find this place? You hike a lot?”

“You mean aside from the fact we can see these mountains from town?”

“Whatever,” Hana says but she’s smiling. They thread their way through some twists and turns, yanking each other up a few steep inclines. The trail summits into an overlook perched on the top edge of the canyon and both of them stop short to catch their breath, both from the hike and from the view. Jack puts up a hand to shade his eyes as Hana lets out a quiet, “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Jack says. 

A soft whistle chimes in with a third opinion. Hana jumps a little and looks back as Jack spins on his heel, automatically stepping in front of her. His hand hovers at his hip though he doesn’t remember reaching for the weapon he no longer carries. But Jack relaxes as soon as he gets a good look at the bench he hadn’t noticed when they crested the hill.

Bastion sits motionless with his binoculars trained on the sky. Jack forces himself to straighten up and lower his hand, trying to make it look nonchalant. He doesn’t think Hana caught it but Bastion keeps the binoculars raised for another few deliberate seconds before he turns and waves. His face is creased in a broad smile and Hana returns a shy little wave of her own.

“Hey,” Jack says, stepping up to the bench and gesturing her over. “Hana, this is Bastion. Firefighter we see on calls a lot. Bastion, this is my goddaughter, Hana.”

Bastion makes a cheerful whistle-click combination as Hana takes a cautious step forward and she smiles. “Hello!” she chirps in return.

Jack realizes with a jolt that it’s probably up to him to keep the conversation—or whatever you call it with a man who usually chooses not to speak—going, being their common denominator. He casts around for something of substance to say and feels a cold little spike of anxiety when his mind blanks. But before he can really panic, Bastion stands and beckons Hana over. He holds the binoculars out to her.

Hana steps over to him and takes them. “What am I looking for?” 

Bastion trills a slow whistle that flutters at the end, waving his hand in a complicated swooping pattern before pointing at a particular patch of sky. Jack can barely make out some dark shape flitting where Bastion indicates and Hana raises the binoculars to her eyes. 

It takes her a second to find the bird but she soon gasps, somehow staring even more intensely. “What is that?” she almost whispers, as if afraid to startle a bird that’s probably miles away.

“Uh,” Jack says but Bastion is again ready. He holds out a thick book to Hana, positioning it so she can see it if she looks down without having to move the binoculars. It’s already open to a page about red-tailed hawks. 

Hana glances at it and then looks over at Bastion. He repeats his whistle pattern and his hand motion, then points to the page. Hana nods once, decisive. “Got it.”

Jack leans back against the bench and smiles.

Six more species of birds later, Hana throws in the towel. She thanks Bastion profusely as they turn to leave and Bastion gives her a thumbs up and another particular whistle-click combination. 

“Sure thing!” she says as Jack waves his own goodbye.

“Sure thing what?” he asks as he and Hana round the bend in the trail and head back down toward the parking lot. 

Hana eyes him sidelong. “He said come back anytime. Guess he comes out here all the time, he’s really into this.”

“Oh,” Jack says, a little thrown. “Okay.”

Hana laughs, almost tripping over a dip in the trail. “It’s okay, Jack. Did you want me to translate all humans for you or just Bastion?”

“Watch out, kid,” Jack says, giving her his best mock glare. “You might get drafted for just that.”

Hana salutes him sloppily and they giggle all the way back down to the car.

That evening Jack watches as Hana curls up on the couch and entertains herself with some simple games on her tablet. He sets himself up at the kitchen table and does a few discreet searches on how appropriate full blown video games are for kids. He finds no shortage of opinions across the usual parenting blog spectrum but he just rolls his eyes at most of them. His favorite blog is silent on the subject.

Jack scowls at his laptop. It’s probably fine? Especially if her parents were okay with Hana playing. They’d certainly have known better than he ever could. But it’s not like he can ask them now.

And he knows it’s stupid. He’s an adult, for God’s sake. He doesn’t need someone to tell him it’s okay to let his ward play a few games now and then. But this feels somehow important, like something he has to get right. If there even is a right answer. He may be stumbling in the dark in every other aspect, but at least CPS gave him a checklist for things like school and shelter. They didn’t give him a guidebook on the less measurable forms of parenting.

Jack used to be the one giving the damn orders. Now he feels like he needs permission to let Hana have a stupid game. 

He folds his arms and slouches in the hard chair, scowling at the screen, when it hits him. If he needs reassurance so badly, he could just…ask. Some of these blogs answer questions, don’t they?

He resolutely doesn’t think about the fact that he feels way more at ease emailing strangers on the internet than he does asking someone he knows in real life. He consoles himself by thinking Reinhardt wouldn’t know any better than he does and that Ana would just laugh at him and not answer at all. Does Zenyatta even know what video games are?

Jack sits up again and pulls his laptop closer. He dismisses the handful of other insipid blogs he has open right away, settling on his favorite. He casts a quick eye over at Hana, taking in her general enthusiasm for all things pink and sparkly, and chuckles to himself when he looks back to the blog he finds most helpful. Its dark theme and pervasive skull motif stand out when Hana’s bright comforter frames it in his line of vision, still draped over the couch.

Jack shrugs to himself and opens up an email, careful to not share anything remotely personal.

> From: soldier76@gmail.com  
>  To: elsegador@flordelamuerte.com  
>  Subject: Advice needed
> 
> I recently got custody of a kid and I don’t know what I’m doing. They’re preteen and asking to play video games but I don’t know if that’s ok to let them do. Are video games bad for kids? Should I put time limits down? Thanks.

Jack rereads his offering and scrunches up his face. He makes it sound like he just got a damn dog or something. But he’s not likely to come up with anything better. And the worst that can happen is the blogger just ignores his email outright. He hits send.

He then goes about some evening chores, cajoling Hana into helping him clean up the dishes from their reheated frozen dinner. He’s sent Hana off to bed and is prepping the couch to serve as his when his laptop pings.

Jack straightens up with no small degree of surprise. He goes over to the kitchen table and cracks open the lid, telling himself it could be some spam or something from work.

But no. It’s a reply.

> From: elsegador@flordelamuerte.com  
>  To: soldier76@gmail.com  
>  Subject: Re: Advice needed
> 
> That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.
> 
> Why do you need me to tell you? Use your damn brain. You ask about time limits. Clearly you’re already going to give them the damn games and supervise their time on it like a fucking adult. 
> 
> And they’re not bad for kids, that’s bullshit. There’s all sorts of stuff about hand eye coordination and problem solving skills and whatever. Just use some fucking moderation. What the hell.

A bunch of links to articles follow the unsigned reply. Jack gapes a little at the answering email. Then, he laughs.

Deep, gut shaking laughs that rise up from his diaphragm and spill out of his throat so hard he can’t breathe. He has to sit down as he tries to choke them back before he wakes Hana up. He yanks his glasses off and wipes a few tears from his eye before he shoves them back on and reads it again. 

This is exactly what he needed. A good wake up slap for when he lets things get too twisted up in his brain to see straight. This is almost exactly like what he would have gotten from Gabe—

Jack sobers right away. He forces himself to focus on the email in front of him and not memories of similar tongue lashings from the past. At least now he has his answer.

Still. Enough amusement is left over for him to send back a cheeky ‘Thanks amigo’ as a reply, complete with a little smiling face. Pretty much how he would have answered Gabe, just to rile him up a little more.

Jack allows himself a sad little smile, letting himself dwell for once on the better aspects of those memories. Back when times were really good. The two of them heading up their team, them against the world. Before the higher ups had screwed with the command structure and their mission. Before Gabe had gone off the rails. Before that last op. Before the explosion.

Jack sighs. So much for focusing on the good times. He shuts the laptop with more gentleness than he feels and walks away.

\--

Jesse kicks open the station wagon's door and levers himself out onto the sidewalk, pivoting on his heel to lean an elbow on the open window. He cocks a smile at the driver. "Thanks for the ride, Pops."

Gabe just rolls his eyes as he hands Jesse the travel mug he'd filled to the brim with Gabe's special-occasions-only hand ground French press masterpiece of black coffee after their early morning breakfast extravaganza. Jesse's pretty sure he saw Sombra smuggle two mugs out as she left for school. "Like there was any way in hell you were taking the bus first thing in the morning," Gabe says as Jesse yanks his backpack out through the window with his other hand.

Jesse smirks at him. "Don't look at me, old man. You coulda kicked me out last night."

"Whatever," Gabe grumbles but he doesn't even try to hide the fond, if exasperated, smile tugging at his mouth. "Oh," he says as Jesse's about to pull away. "Would you tell Genji to lay off with the articles? I replied to the damn email already. And I was never the one saying video games are bad in the first place."

Jesse laughs as he steps away and shakes his head. "Nope. You opened that Pandora's box yourself. You complain that loudly, you deal with the fallout. Especially since you did actually ask for the first few."

Gabe groans, resting his head on the steering wheel.

"Yep," Jesse agrees, taking no pity on the man. "Shoulda asked Sombra instead, I guess."

"Sombra's not as into those damn video games as he is."

"Yet," Jesse adds the key word to his statement with a smile.

"Yet," Gabe agrees. He gives Jesse a look that on any other human would be pleading as he straightens up. "Hey, are you taking them to that thing about it in November?"

"Nope," Jesse says. He gestures behind himself toward campus proper. "Kinda busy this year. Sorry." He's not sorry at all and by Gabe's scowl, he knows it. 

Gabe points a menacing finger at Jesse though he softens it for once with a small twitch of his mouth, belying the scowl. "Get your ass in class, kid."

Jesse gives him a terrible salute. "See ya!" He takes a few backwards steps to wave the station wagon off as Gabe heads back to Pasadena before he spins around and breaks into a jog. He slides into the lecture hall just in time and drops into the seat Lena's saving for him with minutes to spare.

She promptly passes him a few sheets as he gets situated and he pauses to squint at the pages of copied handwriting—or what is apparently supposed to pass for handwriting. "The hell is this?"

"My notes from Friday," she says, cocking her head. "Next thing you say is 'thanks, Lena! You're the best!'"

"Was thinkin' more like 'where's the decoder ring'," he says as he makes a show of disbelief, staring at the chicken scratch covering the pages. She punches him in the arm. 

"Oi, see if I give 'em to you again, love," Lena laughs. 

"I might be better off if you didn't," Jesse says but he tucks them away into his bag with a grateful nod.

Lena makes a face but sobers right away. "So...everything alright?"

"Should be," he says as Professor Lindholm stomps into the front of the hall and starts setting up. "Kind of a rough weekend but when I left, things were lookin' up."

Lena nods, tilting sideways to rest her head on his shoulder in solidarity. "Glad to hear it, mate."

Jesse survives the early lecture on top of his early morning by virtue of his coffee alone. He has to make do with a top up from the cafeteria as he tries to catch up on physics and finish his sociology homework before class, making a face at the subpar replacement. He briefly entertains the thought of a stop by the coffee shop—purely in the interest of self-preservation, of course—but has to discard it with a sigh. He barely makes it to his next class in time as it is.

By the time he shoves his way out of his evening make-up physics lab, he's consumed more caffeine than he knows is acceptable even by his lax standards. Even so, his feet are dragging and he has to fight to keep his eyes open. He trudges into his building with fantasies of a long stretch of uninterrupted sleep dancing through his brain and shoulders the door to his dorm open by almost falling through it. He expects the room to be empty and doesn't bother checking the other side.

So the harsh scrape of a chair across the floor makes him just about leap out of his skin.

"Where have you been?" Hanzo snaps. Jesse spins around, having to slap a hand on his desk for balance, to see him stalk over until he's almost under Jesse's chin. Hanzo folds his sculpted, black-sleeved arms across his broad chest and scowls like Jesse personally kicked his dog. Jesse swallows hard. He's not at all prepared for this vision nor for this unexpected confrontation.

Why the hell does Hanzo keep expecting coherency from him anyway?

Jesse blinks down at him. He finally settles on, "Uhm. Hi?"

"You have been gone for four days," Hanzo huffs, seeming to think Jesse needs the prompting. Jesse can admit he's not wrong.

"Yeah," Jesse says, clearing his throat to swallow the burst of elation that bubbles up from his chest. This is not the time to dwell on the fact that Hanzo definitely noticed his absence. "Sorry?"

Hanzo's scowl deepens, taking on a dangerous edge. 

Jesse scrambles to organize his thoughts. "I, uh, left you a note?" is all he can manage and he winces. Hanzo jerks his head back an inch and blinks at him. His frown is quick to return.

"You did not," he says, but there's a degree of uncertainty to his voice now.

"Yeah," Jesse says, stepping carefully around him and stopping just short of Hanzo's desk. He's reluctant to touch anything with Hanzo's death glare on the back of his neck so he starts to point, frowning at the cluttered surface. That's unexpected. "Uhm. I stuck it to your picture. It was over there, I think?"

The corner of the desk that had held the drawing is now littered with a precarious stack of notebooks and folders, all looking like they were thrown onto the desk with no small degree of force. On second thought, Hanzo's side of the room looks much less neat than it's normal orderly state too. It's still miles more organized than Jesse's so it's hard to notice, but now that Jesse's looking it's unmistakable.

Hanzo comes to stand beside him and stares at the haphazard stack without saying a word. Jesse gets the sinking feeling he hasn't filled his quota of dealing with emotional upheaval over the weekend after all.

Hanzo lets out a sigh so quiet Jesse isn't sure it wasn't an errant gust through the half open window. He starts picking up his notebooks and straightening out the stack with careful, precise movements. Jesse almost looks away, overcome by the inexplicable sense that he's intruding on a moment of private distress. He bites his lip, undecided if he should remove himself. But then Hanzo extracts the unfinished line drawing from the depths of the pile and brings it around for them both to see. 

Jesse's post-it note still clings to the corner, crumpled by its mistreatment. It's a stupid message, 'fyi gone for weekend, see ya monday'. It seems woefully flippant in the sudden gravity of the room and Jesse has to fight not to cringe as his eyes skim over it.

Hanzo is motionless as he stares at it. Jesse is just about to open his mouth and say something he'll regret when Hanzo sighs again. "My apologies," he says. It sounds like he's biting the words out. But Jesse has the feeling Hanzo's not really mad at him. Anymore. "I was mistaken."

"It's fine," Jesse says, hands hovering in an aborted attempt at a placating gesture. "I shoulda, I dunno. Stuck it to the door or something. It's my bad, really."

"No," Hanzo says, turning away. He settles himself back in his chair, turning his shoulders so his back is to Jesse and the room at large. "The fault it mine. Thank you for the note."

Jesse knows a dismissal when he hears one and takes a step back. But he's not ready to leave this subject just yet. "Yeah, of course. I really shoulda put it in a better spot, thought I was being funny." He shrugs though he knows Hanzo won't see it. "I didn't know how else to warn you, is all. It was kinda last minute. I didn't mean to make you," he swallows around the word, "worry. I'm sorry." 

Hanzo says nothing. Jesse's shoulders slump and he starts to turn, to leave him in peace at long last. But then Hanzo stretches out one hand to the side in a slow, smooth motion, palm up. Jesse stares at him as his heartrate kicks up a notch. 

"You are correct," Hanzo says when Jesse fails to otherwise react. "You had no other way to inform me of your plans." 

"Uhm," Jesse says again, eyes fixed on Hanzo's unwavering hand. "Okay?"

"So," Hanzo continues before he pauses to swallow. Jesse watches him straighten his spine even further and feels a sympathy pain in his own back. "Your phone, please."

Jesse's heart leaps into his throat. He's glad Hanzo is still resolutely facing the wall because he doesn't want to think about what his face is doing. He recovers himself enough to dig his phone out of his pocket and deposit it in Hanzo's hand, pouring every ounce of control into keeping his voice even. "Sure, good idea." Hanzo takes it and stares at it for a moment before twisting in his chair just enough to raise an eyebrow at Jesse. "Right," Jesse says and snatches it back, unlocking it. He hands it to Hanzo again with as much seriousness as he can muster and is happy to see Hanzo's face soften a little.

Hanzo enters his contact information and then starts digging through the remaining mess on his desk, pulling out his own phone. He hands over both devices and Jesse puts his own number into Hanzo's phone while doing his best to clamp down on his glee. 

A flash of green in the newly excavated corner of the desk catches his eye as he returns Hanzo's phone. It looks like a little figurine of some kind, though Jesse can't see it well enough through the remaining pile of notes to tell what it is. It's shiny and delicate and distinctly out of place on Hanzo's spartan desk. 

Jesse can't remember ever seeing anything like it over here before and his mouth opens without his consent. "Hey, what is that?" Hanzo's spine goes rigid and Jesse takes an instinctive step back, regretting his every life choice up to this moment. "Sorry, never mind. Don't mind me," he says as he retreats to his side of the room. 

Hanzo says nothing for the rest of the evening and Jesse does his best to be quiet and unobtrusive. He notices Hanzo has slid a new—neat this time—stack of notebooks into the corner to cover the little green figure and he sighs, slumping against the wall in the corner of his loft. He tries to focus on his reading but his thoughts keep straying to the other side of the room, wondering what could have brought on this new dark cloud he can all but see hovering over his roommate. 

Jesse knows how to help Gabe when he has moments like this. He had no clue how to help Hanzo out—much less whether such interference would be at all welcome. He suspects not.

Jesse makes a face to himself as he shoves his book aside, not in the mood to pretend to study any longer. He settles back and tries to calm his thoughts down enough to get some shut eye, longing for that almost forgotten fantasy of sleep. He finally turns onto his side and peers over the edge of his loft, just in time to catch a glimpse of Hanzo with his elbows planted on the edge of his desk and his head in his hands. His proud spine is bent almost in half and his shoulders heave as he lets out a deep, if totally silent, sigh. Then he straightens up and goes back to work as if nothing had happened.

Jesse rolls back away from the edge a frown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rochnariel: where the hell did all this mchanzo come from anyway? that's not even the point to this story  
> eledhiel: no idea, bro, totally weird—  
> eledhiel: *trips, thousands of mchanzo pictures spill out from every pocket*  
> eledhiel: look i can EXPLAIN
> 
> Guys, we swear this whole story is going to have a happy ending. We promise. It just might take about five years to get there. But it's a series now, yay! Right now we're putting up excerpts from all over the timeline from the only POV that matters: Reaper the cat. But a prequel is in the works and more to come!
> 
> Bewildebeest: Oh no! You need 324 mg of aspirin chewed, oxygen to keep your O2 Sat over 94%, 0.4 mg sublingual nitro repeated every 5 minutes for 3 doses unless your blood pressure drops, and 2-4 mg IV morphine. Be prepared for a headache from the nitro and to feel a little fuzzy from the morphine. Oh and they’re going to put a bunch of stickers on your chest and connect you to a monitor to check your heart rhythm. =) But it should help your heart!
> 
> To the tumblr anon that posted that delightful scene re: baking time is relative, thank you. You're awesome, you totally made both our days (and Rochnariel had been having a really long, really crappy day). =)
> 
> Sweet_garlic: GET AFTER IT BABE, YOU GOT THIS.


	16. experimental cooking, shopping is hard

Genji dumps his bags of groceries on the island counter and completely ignores Sombra’s raised eyebrow. 

“Gabe keeps us pretty well stocked, you know,” Sombra says. Genji shrugs. He digs a cast iron skillet and a grill pan out from the cabinets and lays them out next to the bags.

“Of course he does.” Genji shoulders open one more cabinet and yanks out the stand mixer. “But I do not think using up all his groceries would help the situation today.” 

“Half of what he buys is for you to use. You do know that, right?” Sombra replies without glancing up from her laptop.

Genji did not, in fact, know this. He hadn’t realized he cooks over here that often. Something to think about, at a later time.

Genji sneaks a look at Sombra’s screen as he sets out the mixing bowls and grabs a cutting board. It’s dripping with lines upon lines of code, none of which make any sense to him in the short glance he manages. Sombra doesn’t immediately slam the laptop lid or snap at him, so he figures it must not be anything of consequence. Or it’s something he’ll hear about later.

“What are you making?” Sombra asks as Reaper jumps up onto the table next to her. He tries to casually stroll across her keyboard but she deflects him with practiced ease. So the cat hops up onto her shoulders instead, trying to both balance on his thin perch and knead at the same time.

Genji grins at them. “Beef kofta, some roasted vegetables, and homemade pita. Well…” He pauses as he turns to focus on the yeast, activating it with sugar in some warm water. “That is provided the dough rises. I also bought some in case it does not work.” 

Sombra glances over her screen to give him a level look. She keeps her shoulders perfectly still to maintain Reaper’s throne and he matches her unimpressed stare. 

Genji shrugs. “Very well, Zenyatta bought it. But I did go to the store with him yesterday to get everything.”

“Ah, yes. Grocery shopping. Such a hardship.” Sombra rolls her eyes as she keeps typing. Genji shakes his head. He has no idea how she can make sure her code is perfect when she’s not even looking at it.

“It really is. It is just so boring,” Genji says as he stares down the water-yeast mixture. He breathes a soft sigh of relief when it starts bubbling and adds it to the flour in the stand mixer. He sets it to knead and turns his attention to the vegetables.

Sombra spares her screen the briefest of glances before squinting at him. “I’ve seen you and Gabe spend hours in here cooking. How is that any less boring?” 

“Easy,” Genji replies with a grin as he wipes pepper and onion residue off of his chef’s knife. He holds it up and twirls it between his fingers—carefully. “I get to play with knives. So much better than wandering through aisles.”

“Ah, of course. Knives.” Sombra goes back to her computer with a shake of her head and Genji continues slicing in peace. He hums the melody to the band’s new song under his breath, trying to figure out what’s wrong with it. There’s something about it he doesn’t like, but he can’t quite put words to it just yet. And for some reason, Carlos won’t accept ‘it is just not right’ as an answer. 

Peacekeeper wanders in and sits at Genji’s feet. He puts on the most heart wrenching expression he’s capable of to beg for scraps, something that he only gets away with when Gabe’s not home. Genji gently pushes him aside with one foot so he can reach the stove. He rotates his ankle and flexes his toes as he draws his leg back, trying to shake out some of the growing stiffness from the coming rain.

“Don’t you have band practice tonight?” Sombra asks, interrupting Genji’s contemplation of the song as he mixes meat and desperately tries to ignore Peacekeeper’s soulful performance.

“I cancelled it. I could not get out of ninjutsu practice yesterday, but I can be here today.” Genji looks over his shoulder to meet her eyes but she’s now staring quite intently at her computer. “I am sorry you did not have back-up last week.”

Sombra waves an airy hand, still not looking up. “No big deal. Jesse got here.” She’s trying to sound nonchalant about it. But Genji’s been around long enough to know how unsettling Gabe can be in that mood. And he’s never had to handle it directly himself; Jesse has always been around before.

Genji nods. “Yes. He told me they are pulling the kid today.”

“So you came to cook dinner?” Sombra tilts her head, disturbing Reaper just enough to send him flying from her shoulders. Sombra scowls and massages the places his nails had dug in when he leapt off. Reaper, clearly dissatisfied, trots over and swats Peacekeeper across the nose. The dog jerks back in surprise, focused wrenched from Genji’s activities, before recovering enough to give chase. Genji loses track of them when they head up the stairs.

“Yes,” Genji says, turning his attention back to the stove. He doesn’t feel the need to elaborate. Gabe was the first adult he’d trusted after starting his new life. This house has always felt like home, even after he’d lost all concept of what home meant. He’ll do whatever he can to help out. 

Especially since Gabe never seems to expect it, from anyone. Well…outside of his growled demands to help with dinner prep on occasion.

“So what are you working on?” Genji asks, heating up a cast iron skillet and the grill pan.

“Halloween,” Sombra says, watching Genji flatten and pan fry the pita dough balls. Genji grins. This household takes Halloween very, very seriously. He loves every minute of it. “I’m automating some things to jump out at people. Well, that and a few other surprises. Can’t let the display slip with Jesse gone, he’d never let us live it down.”

“So instead you are going to show him up?” Genji asks with a smirk, flipping the bread he has on the grill pan.

“Sacred duty of little siblings, right?” Sombra gives him a sly smile.

Genji laughs. “Glad to see that you are taking my advice seriously.” Genji pulls off the last of the pita bread and grabs the skewers of beef as he hears a car pull into the driveway. Perfect timing.

Gabe pushes through the back door, shoulders slumped. He drops his bag next to the door and kicks off his shoes before looking around the kitchen, dark circles ringing his eyes. Peacekeeper barrels into the room at the sound of the door and runs straight into Gabe’s knees. Genji hears him mutter, “Damn dog,” half under his breath before leaning down to pet him. Gabe opens the door again to let Peacekeeper outside, allowing him to escape the cat that follows hot on his heels.

“This better not be about the damn ferret,” Gabe growls, stretching his back before leaning down to snatch his bag back up. He grabs the cat off the island when Reaper starts sniffing the warm pita bread.

“Of course not,” Genji says easily, not taking Gabe’s tone to heart. He always sounds angry when he’s tired. And from what Genji heard from Jesse, he’d be shocked if Gabe’s slept more than a few hours in the past few days. “Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks.” Gabe gives Genji a tired grin and boosts Reaper up onto his shoulders. “I was not looking forward to cooking tonight.” Reaper settles in and his face takes on a look of blissful contentment. Genji has to smile. He knows the cat likes his vantage points, but apparently Gabe’s shoulders provides the perfect height.

“I believe that is why you taught me to cook,” Genji says. 

“Nah,” Gabe chuckles. “I taught you because you wouldn’t stop poking my damn knives while I was trying to cook. Better to teach you than take you to the emergency room for cutting off a finger.” Gabe ruffles Genji’s hair, pushing a few green strands into his eyes and somehow managing not to dislodge the cat, on his way out of the kitchen. Genji ducks away with a smile and gives his sore hands a brief massage while the beef cooks. He may enjoy joking that he’s a super cool cyborg ninja, but any ounce of rain on the horizon always turns the pins in his hands and feet into an incredible annoyance. Perhaps this recipe entails too much chopping and kneading than might be wise while there’s a storm brewing, but Genji discards the thought. It’s worth it.

“Anything I can do?” Sombra pipes up, setting her computer aside.

Genji points a threatening and only somewhat aching finger at her. “I am not letting you near the stove. I think this is turning out perfectly. But you could set the table.”

“You all act like I’m going to burn the kitchen down just by pulling things off the stove.” Sombra heaves a dramatic sigh as she skirts around Genji to grab some plates. 

“You might,” Genji teases. “So I am not letting you near anything I am making for the first time. Maybe when it is something I can make in my sleep, so that I know any catastrophes are your fault and not a result of something I did.”

Sombra pokes him in the side on her way by, making Genji jump and drop the skewer he was holding. He swings around to retaliate but she’s already on the other side of the kitchen. Genji sticks his tongue out at her in response to her cheery grin and pulls the last skewer off the stove just as Gabe walks back into the kitchen, sans cat and bag and looking vaguely more human.

“So what’d you make today, kid?” Gabe asks as he grabs the whiskey from the top shelf. He pours himself a drink and carries it over to the table as Genji grabs the platter of beef skewers and adds it to the pita and vegetables already on the table. 

“Beef kofta, roasted vegetables, and some pita bread. There is tzatziki sauce as well.” Genji takes his seat, flexing his hands again. Genji can tell Gabe notices; for a man who enjoys projecting an air of overbearing intimidation, he is surprisingly attuned to the little things. Gabe squeezes Genji’s shoulder with his heavy hand as he slides into his own chair.

“Sounds good, thanks. Still on the Mediterranean kick then?” 

“Yes. It is interesting. Very different than the Mexican you taught me.”

“I’m not complaining.” Gabe assembles a pita and takes an enormous bite. Genji follows suit, analyzing the pita texture and flavor as he chews. Making bread is still not something he’s quite comfortable with. “It’s good. And I sure as hell don’t know how to make any of it.”

“You only ever branch out with your baking,” Sombra breaks in as she chews, earning a warning look from Gabe. But Gabe doesn’t deny it and Genji chuckles to himself. 

“I don’t hear you complaining about that,” Gabe replies as he glares at her.

“I never complain about experimental cookies,” Sombra says before shoving another bite into her mouth.

“So,” Genji takes a deep breath and plows ahead before he can talk himself out of it. “Did today go well?”

Gabe doesn’t even pretend to misunderstand the question. Genji figures he must have expected Jesse to fill them in about today’s depressing task with how often he complains that they’re all gossipy old women. 

“As much as it could, yeah.” Gabe takes sip of his whiskey and scowls at the door when Peacekeeper starts to scratch at it. “We got the kid settled into a temporary placement. Hopefully, we’ll be able to get him into a more permanent spot in a few days. The dad’s in jail, but that’s all I can say about that. I’ll probably have to testify in a few months.”

Genji nods. He knows better than to press for details, no matter how curious he might be.

“So we shouldn’t expect this kid to break in here in the middle of the night?” Sombra asks with a grin at Genji. His jaw drops as his fork tumbles from surprised fingers and Gabe laughs.

“Who told you I—? I’m going to kill him.” Genji tries to affect a scowl and sound angry. But he’s more amused than anything at his own past, somewhat questionable decisions. It does make a pretty good story if he says so himself.

“Jesse thought I needed to know important family history,” Sombra says with an unconcerned shrug. She smirks. “Well, that and he thought it was funny.”

“No, Sombra,” Gabe answers her before he takes another sip. “Genji’s just special. He’s the only one that’s ever felt the need to break in here when he didn’t like a placement.”

“See? I’m special,” Genji sits back in his chair with a satisfied smile as the other two shake their heads in near perfect unison. 

“Yeah, kid. You’re very special.” Gabe kicks lightly at Genji under the table but there’s a big smile on his face. 

“So,” Genji says, drawing out the vowel long enough to put on his best puppy dog eyes. “If I am special, does that mean I get a ferret?” He counts it as a win when Gabe throws back his head and barks out a laugh.

\--

Jack puts the car in park and reaches for the door, hand hovering in midair as he bites his lip. He frowns at the store across the street as he sits in the car and tries to gauge how crowded it might be. He also eyes the displays filling the windows to see if anything jumps out as a potential candidate. He's not hesitating. He's just...planning his attack. That's all.

He takes a deep breath. Time to man up.

Jack kicks open the car door and marches into the game store with all the determination he can muster. It's the only thing that keeps him from spinning on his heel and marching right back out again as soon as he crosses the threshold. The store is blessedly empty but for a few patrons, but it makes up for the quiet with an overwhelming assortment of colorful cases and more varieties of devices and cables than Jack ever imagined existed. All of it packed from floor to ceiling with enough density to make him dizzy.

He shakes his head and stumbles forward into the unfamiliar territory just to get himself moving. But he flounders a little when trying to choose which display to target, caught between what seem like three totally separate areas. How is he supposed to tell what any of this means?

Jack also regrets the low customer population as soon as a store clerk notices his aimless meanderings and makes a beeline for him. Jack turns away, mild panic igniting in his chest, and chooses a corner of the store at random. He tries to convince himself he's absolutely not hiding behind a baffling display of plush creatures as he pretends he knows what he's looking for. 

He lets out the breath he's holding in an inaudible sigh as the clerk seems to take the hint. But dodging the human interaction gauntlet doesn't actually help him navigate the myriad of confusing options laid out before him and he scowls at the displays.

Jack has to admit he needs help if he’s wants to get this done in any reasonable amount of time. He’d like to grab a nap before he has to pick Hana up from school. He’s just glad that he’s on his last round of midnights for the next few weeks. Grabbing sleep in his pockets of free time between calls and while Hana’s at school has been more difficult than he expected. He’s hoping it will get easier. 

After all, Zenyatta seems to manage without any problems. Jack ignores the fact that Zenyatta has the not inconsiderable advantage of being fifteen years younger than he is.

Jack frowns at the wall of game cases in front of him from his hiding spot and flips open his phone. The only thing he’s narrowed down on his own is that he can’t afford to get Hana a computer good enough to support any sort of games beyond spider solitaire, not with an apartment security deposit looming over his head. He’s pretty sure that’s not what she has in mind. And the price tags on some of the simpler models alone had almost given him a heart attack. So console it is.

Jack tries to wrench his thoughts away from both mind boggling computers and the hell that is his fruitless apartment search as he punches the newly assigned speed dial number. Reinhardt answers right away.

“Hello, my friend,” Reinhardt’s voice booms in his ear and Jack yanks the phone a little ways from his head to save his hearing.

“Hi,” Jack says before hesitating. He’s hoping Hana might have let a few more specifics slip around Reinhardt but he’s not sure how to ask. It’s not really that complicated a question and he scowls at himself. Phones are the worst, they always throw him off. “So…uhm…”

“What can I help you with?” Reinhardt asks as Jack grapples with the English language.

“Right.” Jack shakes himself and tries to start over. “Has Hana said anything to you about video game consoles?”

“Nothing specific,” Reinhardt replies. Jack can hear the smile that the man seems to wear anytime Hana’s mentioned these days in his voice. “She has spoken of her games a few times, but nothing about how to play them. Why do you ask?”

“Well…I’m kind of trying to buy one. But I have no idea where to even start.” Jack glances around the display he’s loitering behind to scan the store once again.

“Are you in a store? They have people to help with these things, do they not? Why not ask one of them?”

Jack side eyes the counter and can see the clerk standing at the register, shuffling papers. It seems like he’s trying to look busy—and probably keeping an eye on the weird guy in the corner behind the great wall of plushies.

“Well, yeah,” Jack sighs. “I guess. But wouldn’t I need to know something about what I want?” Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

“You could ask Hana. She would know,” Reinhardt says.

“Well, yeah. But I kind of wanted to surprise her.”

“Then I think you need to ask the sales person,” Reinhardt’s tone is frustratingly reasonable despite the volume. “I doubt you are the first person they have encountered who has no idea what to buy. This is their job, after all.”

Jack makes a face before he takes a deep breath. “Okay, right. I can do this.”

“Yes, you can, my friend!” Reinhardt cheers and Jack resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. “And let me know what you get. I would like to be prepared for tonight.”

Jack laughs, reluctant smile tugging at his mouth. “Sure thing. See you tonight.” Jack hangs up. Okay, he’s got this. He has harder conversations than this at work all the time. Never mind that at work he can wear his professionalism like a mask and nothing is personal. Jack squares his shoulders. He marches around the display and up to the counter.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” the clerk asks with a smile, doing a fantastic job of pretending he hasn’t been watching Jack sulk in the corner for ten minutes.

Jack tells himself to get straight to the point. “Yeah. I want to get my goddaughter a video game console.” Okay, so far so good.

“Great,” the clerk says with an ease that makes Jack relax despite himself. Maybe Reinhardt is right after all and this guy is a pro at handling clueless customers. “What does she play?”

“Well, uhm...” Jack fumbles out of the gate, trying to think. He knows Hana mentioned the name of one over the weekend, but it completely escapes him. It was only a few days ago, he should remember this. He also can’t believe he didn’t anticipate this question and try to remember before he came. “I’m not sure. She kind of lost everything in a fire.”

“Oh man, I’m sorry,” the clerk grimaces, shoving his own thick glasses back up his nose. “It’s great that you’re trying to replace some of her things. That’s got to be a big help.” Jack shrugs. He doesn’t feel the need to correct the clerk’s assumption, but he’s also not really sure what to say in response to that. Thankfully the guy doesn’t wait a response. “Okay. So she lost all of her games and equipment?” 

“Yeah. The only thing she has left is the tablet she had on her at the time.”

“All right. Do you happen to know what she did have? Anything she mentioned offhand or something? Might give us something to go on.” 

Jack shakes his head. He can’t remember ever talking to Hana about video games before this weekend. She must have said something about them before if they’re such a big thing for her but wracking his brain produces zero clues. Scratch failing this whole guardian thing—this might make him a horrible godfather too.

“Okay,” the clerk says. “All consoles have a variety of game types, and most games are released cross platform. We could go with pretty much any console and grab a bunch of different games for her to try, they’re returnable. But it would be cool if we could get one’s she’ll like the first time. Save you the trip back, you know?”

The clerk steps around the counter and Jack bites his lip as he follows. He tries to think, passing an eye over the myriad of game covers as they walk by. A few have the word star in the game title and Jack pauses. It was a star-something, wasn’t it? Star Wars? Star-lord? No, Star…StarCraft! That was it. 

“I think she mentioned StarCraft,” Jack offers hesitantly. “But that needs a computer, right? That’s not an option right now.”

“Yeah, StarCraft is PC,” the clerk says with a smiles. “But we can work with that.” Jack relaxes a little.

“She also talked about going to BlizzCon this year. Not sure if that helps.” Jack stops next to the clerk in front of the display wall full of green boxes.

“It sure doesn’t hurt. Okay, so StarCraft is a real-time strategy game. Closest thing in console form, really, is Halo. It’s a first person shooter where you fight aliens with a team.” Jack nods, trying to pretend like that makes any sort of sense to him. “Don’t worry about it,” the clerk grins. Jack’s not at all surprised his act is that transparent and shrugs it off. “She’ll get it. It’s similar enough that it should be fun for her.”

Jack is starting to feel much better about this with a starting point. “So what else do I need?”

Jack squints in the sunlight as he leaves the store, too laden with bags to slide on his sunglasses. He’s walking out with everything the guy recommended: the console, the game, and a few other basic options. He has no idea how to set any of it up but he’s hoping Hana will know what to do. He’d rather not take the more than minimal chance that he’ll break anything. Plus that way, if he bought the wrong thing and she hates it all, he can return it in the original packaging.

In any case, she should be surprised. And he’s crossing his fingers for happy too. He loads the bags carefully into his car and shoots off a text to Reinhardt before climbing into the driver’s seat.

> sent << got a xbox and some halo game

Jack is pleased to see he should have enough time to grab a short nap before getting Hana from school—right up until he pulls out into the unreasonably heavy midday traffic. Who the hell is on the road this time on a weekday? Shouldn’t they all be at work?

The drive back takes twice as long as he expected. Jack ends up having just enough time to run the bags up to his apartment and set them out on the couch right in line of sight of the door before he has to leave again. 

He checks his phone after he pulls into the school parking lot as he shuts off the engine, waiting for Hana to come out.

> Wilhelm, R. >> I look forward to it! I shall come with dinner before you leave.

Jack shakes his head.

> sent << you don’t need to bring dinner

Reinhardt’s reply comes immediately.

> Wilhelm, R. >> Nonsense. See you soon!

Jack’s finger hovers over the keypad but the half-formed replies evaporate from his brain when he catches sight of Hana. She’s got her back slung over one shoulder and is wholly engaged in animated conversation with the girl walking beside her. Jack squints a little. She looks familiar and he tries to remember where he’s seen this girl before. It takes him a minute as they walk through the parking lot to place her as the girl the guidance counselor had pulled aside to help Hana adjust to the school.

What was her name? Something with an E, he thinks, but the name itself escapes him. Oh well. He’s sure Hana will remind him—with plenty of good-natured ribbing about memory being the first thing to go—if it comes up.

Hana waves goodbye to her friend and jogs over to the car, her backpack slipping off of her shoulder. She swings herself into the passenger seat with a cheerful, “Hey, Jack.” He doesn’t answer, fixing her with a glare when she twists herself up like a pretzel in the seat. She gives him a long-suffering sigh and straightens out, exaggerating her newly excellent posture and folding her hands primly on her lap. She gives him a smile and flutters her eyelashes in a terrible impression of doe-eyed innocence. “Better?”

“Yes,” he says, softening his glare into a satisfied nod. “I’ve seen way too many accidents where the seatbelts couldn’t do a damn thing to help, the way people were sitting. I don’t want that happening to you.”

“Oh,” Hana says, relaxing her theatrical posture into a normal slump. But, Jack is pleased to note, she stays upright. She blinks a few times, as if the reality of Jack’s job has just occurred to her. “Right.”

Jack chuckles as he puts the car in drive. “Good day?” he asks, unable to suppress the yawn that cracks his jaw as he pulls out of the lot.

“It was all right,” Hana shrugs. She brightens a bit. “Efi’s catching me up in the programming class. That’s been fun.” She tilts her head and appraises him with a critical look. “Did you sleep at all today?”

“Had stuff to take care of. I’ll be fine.”

“Uh huh.” Hana doesn’t sound convinced, but she pulls out her phone instead of arguing the point. Jack lets her tap away in silence. He doesn’t trust himself not to give away the big surprise, so he keeps his mouth clamped shut and tries to maintain a neutral expression as he drives. He knows his poker face is shit so he’s glad she seems engrossed in her phone. 

Hana does give him a suspicious glance as they climb out of the car, so he hurries to head up the stairs ahead of her to forestall the questions he can see forming in her eyes now that she’s paying attention. He sweeps open the door and waves her through first. She shrugs and walks in—and Jack can see the exact moment she registers the bags on the couch. 

She stops dead in the middle of the room. Jack is almost disappointed now that he’s missing the expression on her face, but the feeling evaporates as she whips around on the spot. Her mouth is one big ‘O’ and her eyes are shining. “Jack! You didn’t.” 

Jack gives in to the grin that spreads across his face. “Well, I’m not sure I got anything you’ll actually like. But the guy said it’s the closest that he could get to your Star-thing in console form. We grabbed a few other games too.”

“Thank you!” Hana squeals as she throws her arms around him, repeating the litany so fast the words start running together. “Thank you thank you thank you. I’m sure it’s great.”

Jack laughs, hugging her back. “If it’s not, let me know. We can get something else, no big deal.” Hana pulls back and gives him a blinding smile. She spins on her heel and dives for the bags. Jack leans a shoulder against the wall and watches her rip plastic shrink wrap to shreds like it’s Christmas morning. “I hope you know how to set it all up, I have no clue. But the guy assured me everything you need should be there.”

Hana glances at him over her shoulder as she slides components out of the box with care. “Yeah, I got it. They actually come with the basics you need already. I mean, you can always get fancy extras and some of it makes it better, but you don’t need it. This is great, seriously. You’re the best. “

Jack preens a little to himself before he tries to smother his self-satisfied smile. Finally, something he’s doing right. He drops heavily onto the only clear corner of the couch and leans back to watch Hana start hooking up a baffling mess of cords to the ancient TV. He contemplates emailing an update on Operation: Parental Fun Police to his inadvertent advisor before dismissing the half-formed thought. The blogger probably doesn’t care now that their common sense has been dropped like an annoyed anvil. 

Jack’s settling into a light doze when there’s a short knock on the door. He blinks awake and sits up as Reinhardt comes in with two big bags hanging from his massive hands. Jack snaps a look at the demon alarm clock with mild panic but he’s relieved to see it’s still pretty early. Jack still has a few more hours before he has to leave.

“Hey,” Jack stands and stretches his back, reaching to take the bags. Reinhardt holds them above his head and takes them to the kitchen, emptying their contents into the fridge. Jack glances at Hana, crouched in front of the TV as an installation loading bar creeps across the screen, and follows Reinhardt. “You’re early.”

“I wanted to see Hana’s new game,” Reinhardt replies with a fantastic impression of innocence. “And I brought dinner.” Reinhardt closes the fridge and levels a look at Jack, his eyebrows a little furrowed. “You look tired, my friend.”

“Knock it off, both of you,” Jack says with a scowl. “I swear, I’m fine. One day without a nap won’t kill me.”

“This is true,” Reinhardt agrees, projecting a far better guileless act than Hana’s earlier performance. “But I am here now. Surely it would not hurt to get some sleep before your shift. I can play with Hana.”

Jack glares at him. He knows he’s being handled.

“Come on, Jack,” Hana pipes up, leaning back on her heels to see into the kitchen. “Take my room and sleep. I don’t want anything happening just cause you’re tired.”

Jack sighs, shoving a hand under his glasses to rub at his eyes. He knows there’s no way he can argue with that. He doesn’t want Hana worrying about him all night even though he knows he’ll be fine.

“You sure?” Jack asks, feeling like a cranky kindergartner being put down for a nap. “I can stay up and play with you. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure,” Hana replies with a smile. “Sleep now. I’ll teach you tomorrow. I don’t think we have enough time before you leave to catch you up with the times and get a game in anyway.”

Jack laughs and gives in. “Okay, fine. You two have fun.” Hana just grins, grabbing one of the controllers and beckoning Reinhardt to join her on the couch.

He doesn’t expect to get much sleep but he’s surprised at how rested he does feel when he wakes up a few hours later. He did expect the new kinks in his back and he tries to stretch them out as he gets up off the floor. Jack just doesn’t feel right sleeping in the bed now that it’s Hana’s. He changes into his uniform and stumbles out of the bedroom, rubbing the grit from his eyes with his glasses in hand. Then he jumps so hard he hits the wall when Reinhardt’s voice booms from the living room. 

“I HAVE FOUND THE ENEMY!” Jack can still feel the echo reverberate in his bones as Hana’s laughter follows.

Jack takes a breath to calm his sudden spike of adrenaline and rounds into the living room. Reinhardt and Hana sit side by side on the couch, both staring intently at the TV. The game controller is dwarfed by the size of Reinhardt’s hands and Jack isn’t sure how he isn’t crushing it in his tight grip.

“Having fun?” His question startles Hana and she groans, tossing her controller onto the coffee table as her character on screen dies.

“Ugh. Thanks, Jack.”

“Anytime,” he grins, drifting into the kitchen and following the sequence of arrows on the post-it note to get coffee.

Reinhardt’s character apparently dies as well, because he sets aside his controller and follows Jack into the kitchen.

“Here.” Reinhardt pulls a Tupperware container out of the fridge. “Your dinner, since we didn’t want to wake you up earlier. Take it with you. And make sure you eat it!”

Jack chuckles, taking the container with a good-natured roll of his eyes. “Yes, Dad.”

Hana twists around on the couch and folds her arms across the back, resting her chin on them. “Does that mean you’re Grandpa?” she asks with an impish grin. “Can I call you hal-abeoji?” 

Reinhardt laughs and gives her a little bow.

“So long as you two keep it down, I don’t care,” Jack smiles as he walks to the door, dinner and coffee in hand. “Seriously, the neighbors are going to complain.”

“Sure, Jack,” Hana replies, her total focus returning to the TV screen. “We promise. Have a good night.”

This is just going to end in disaster. Jack can already see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, we have played neither StarCraft nor Halo, nor do we own an Xbox. It's like the one system we don't have at this point. So most of our info for Hana's gaming adventures will be straight from Google research. Why can't Hana be going pro in something we actually know, come on.
> 
> You all are totally awesome. Thanks for the comments and love! We’re glad you liked the email from Gabe. It’s Eledhiel’s crowning achievement in life.
> 
> Considering 90% of this story has been plotted while we walk the dog, we're starting to wonder what the neighbors think. Could be worse, we could be plotting a murder mystery. =)


	17. piggyback rides, the power of tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, we had to buy a day planner to keep track of all of these plot threads and schedules. Next up: conspiracy wall in the basement.
> 
> Also we made macarons this weekend. Interpret that how you will with regard to how the week went for both of us. Your support seriously means the world to us and makes even the worst days better (especially the 13 hours shifts).

"Y'all are tryin' to kill me, ain't you," Jesse mumbles into the sweaty leather of his hat. The remaining dew clinging to the grass seeps into his shirt and shorts as he lays spread-eagled on the ground. It creates a weird dichotomy of cold against his back while the early morning sun overheats his front but he can't bring himself to care.

The hat lifts off his face and Jesse squints at the sudden light, glaring up at Lena as she leans over to grin down at him. "What was that, love?"

"I said I know y'all are trying to kill me," he says and she cackles.

"Knew you'd catch on eventually," she says as she drops the hat back over his face. His respite is short lived as someone starts lightly kicking his ankle.

He lifts his head up and shoves his hat back with a thumb. "What?" he growls.

"Up," Fareeha smirks. She prods at his leg again with one foot. "One more round of laps and then you can be free." She takes off without another word, leading the team members that haven't yet keeled over on the start of the lap. 

Jesse's heartfelt groan is interrupted as Lena hauls him up off the grass so he slumps against her. "Carry me," he moans pitifully.

"How do you expect me to do that?" she laughs. "You're twice my height, you'd crush me."

"Would not," he says, turning a pleading look on Zarya instead as she lumbers to her feet. 

She shrugs. "Sure."

Jesse blinks at her as Lena boggles. "You mean it?" he asks.

"I would say will be good practice for me but," Zarya gives them a confident grin, "I will not even notice your weight." She steps in front of Jesse and crouches a little as Lena laughs again, bright and bubbly. 

"Do it!" she chirps, yanking out her phone and getting poised to take pictures. 

Jesse shrugs and climbs onto her back and she clamps her arms around his thighs, taking off without warning. Lena squawks at being left behind as if she can't catch up in a heartbeat, giggling all the way.

They make it a third of the way around the lap before Fareeha turns around to check up on the team progress. Jesse can see her almost trip over her own feet when she catches sight of them. "That's cheating!" she shouts but he can also see her smiling. He takes off his hat and waves it at her, keeping his other arm clamped around Zarya's shoulders. He feels Zarya's deep laugh rumble through her chest as he hangs on for dear life. 

"Okay, down," he says. Zarya pauses to drop him and he only stumbles a little on the landing, sprinting forward to catch up and keep pace with her and Lena. "Thanks for the ride," he says. 

Zarya grins at him. "Oh, that was you? I thought it was gnat."

"In that case, me next!" Lena says as she does a sort of jogging side step to face them as they run. Zarya nods at her and readies her arms, but doesn't stop. Lena skips behind her and does a running leap, landing perfectly on Zarya's back without either of them missing a beat. 

"You don't need the help," Jesse laughs as Lena gives him a bright smile. 

"Is training for me," Zarya says, her breathing perfectly even as though she were only having a nice stroll instead of jogging with another human on her back. "Although I think I would need to carry you both to make it real workout." She grins at him, sharp as a shark.

"Sure, rub it in," Jesse huffs and shakes his head as Lena perks up. "And no, not a chance," he says before she can say anything.

"Spoilsport," she says, sticking her tongue out at him. Lena brightens right away, leaning forward over Zarya's shoulder to address her. Zarya adjusts to the change in weight distribution without breaking stride. "Hey, you're going to the game today, aren't you?"

Zarya nods. "Of course! I am interested to see what passes for sport in this country," she says, turning her head to Jesse when he raises an eyebrow. "I have not yet been to any of these 'football' games."

"You ain't missing much," he says.

"Don't let Fareeha her you say that, mate," Lena laughs, throwing her head back as she dangles off Zarya's shoulders at arm’s length. Zarya again adjusts with no visible effort.

"Why do you think I'm sayin' it way back here?" Jesse says. "The tailgate's the best part. You comin' for that?"

"What is this?" Zarya asks.

"Free food beforehand," Lena pipes up.

"I am there," Zarya says with a decisive nod. Jesse laughs.

"Good," Lena says, shifting again to throw herself toward Jesse. "When you go for your 'coffee run' beforehand, see if Mei wants to come."

Jesse sputters. "What makes you think I'm stoppin’ there?" Zarya and Lena fix him with identical dubious expressions and Jesse huffs. "Oh, fine. I'll grab her."

Zarya's face blossoms into a broad smile. Lena waggles her eyebrows instead. "Bet that's not all you'll pick up, mate."

Jesse makes a face at her and concentrates on finishing the lap.

The thing is, it's not as though the thought hasn't crossed his mind once or twice before. Or every day for the past week. Or possibly every other minute. But Hanzo’s been reluctant enough to get involved with any of Jesse’s group invites before, and that was before this perpetual dark cloud had settled over his shoulders with the permanence of a shroud. 

Jesse knows for a fact the week has not improved Hanzo's mood, but he's still disappointed to see the thunderous expression on his roommate's face as he pushes through the shop’s door. Jesse could swear Hanzo almost growls at the customer he's helping, who takes the hint and retreats to the other end of the counter as soon as they finish placing their order. Jesse falters in his step, face twisting as his fresh concern surfaces, but he squares his shoulders and ambles up to the counter regardless. 

Hanzo glances up at him and outright glares. Jesse tries not to take it personally. "Hey," he says, keeping his voice light and aiming a finger gun at Hanzo.

Hanzo turns his scowl back onto the register, punching Jesse's usual black coffee in without asking. He shoves the empty cup across the counter. After a moment he grumbles, "Hello."

"Nice day so far," Jesse says, keeping his expression mild as he digs out his card. 

"I suppose," Hanzo allows, making a visible effort to rein in his mood. He casts a critical eye over Jesse's appearance and Jesse has to fight down the fluttering in his stomach yet again. "You seem to be enjoying it immensely."

"Oh, it gets worse," Jesse chuckles. "Got grass stains all down my back, I'm sure of it."

Hanzo closes his eyes and shakes his head a little. "And it does not concern you to appear in public in this way?"

"Nope," Jesse says. "Coffee's way more important than dignity."

"So I see," Hanzo sighs.

“Look, I’ve had a hard day,” Jesse says, one corner of his mouth tugging into a grin. “They made me get up before noon for one of Fareeha’s ‘optional’ practices. Can’t say I give a rat’s ass about public opinion right now, let me tell you.”

Hanzo hands his card back with a flat look. “Please tell me you will at least shower before inflicting your grass stains upon any more of the public, regardless of your lack of concern for them.”

Jesse shrugs, affecting his best disarming smile. "Suppose I'll take that under advisement. If I do, what do you say to joinin' our little shindig? Tailgatin's way more fun than I expected, you should give it a shot."

"No, thank you," Hanzo says shortly. "Now, if you do not mind..." He trails off with a pointed nod to the line building behind Jesse and waves him to the other end of the counter with a sharp flick of his wrist. Jesse tips his hat and tries to smother his disappointment—or at least keep it off his face—as he gets out of the way.

Jesse fills his cup at the carafe station and leans an elbow on the counter, expelling the air in his lungs in one long and dejected gust. Mei gives him a sympathetic glance as she steams some milk for orders not yet placed. She's doing a fantastic job of pretending she's just very busy at her end of the counter and not actively avoiding the register, if Jesse says so himself. 

"Sorry to let him out of the dorm in such a bad mood," he tells her with a grimace. "Should've tried to get him to call in sick or somethin', he's been like this all week."

"He wouldn't have," Mei says with a small shrug. "He gets here before me every time we have a shift, and has so many things done I used to wonder if he lived here!"

"You and me both, darlin'," Jesse grouses.

Mei pats his hand before she starts pouring out lattes. "But it's okay, everyone has bad days." She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she sends a worried frown Hanzo's way. "I just wish I knew what could maybe cheer him up." She gives Jesse a hopeful look but he shakes his head. 

"Yeah, he ain't exactly the easiest read around." Mei nods a little sadly and Jesse steps back so she can hand a few cups to a couple so tangled up in backpack straps and each other that Jesse can't understand how they balance their drinks too. He leans on the counter again as they drift away and tries to lighten his expression. "But enough about that. How about you, you busy today? When are you done here?"

Mei glances up at him as if startled. "Me? I'm done at eleven, I think. Why?"

"How would you feel about good food and good company, with a side order of sunshine?"

"What?" Mei blinks at him.

"Come to our tailgate," he clarifies.

"Oh," Mei says, cheeks reddening a little. "Thank you, but I—I don't have a ticket—"

"Don't need one for the tailgate," Jesse says, waving an easy hand. "That's just in the parkin' lot."

Mei brightens. "Oh, I see. Uhm. Are you sure?"

Jesse lays out his trump card. "Zarya's comin'."

The color in Mei's face ratchets to a shade in the cooked lobster family but it does nothing to detract from her beaming smile. "Okay!"

"Perfect," Jesse gives her a wink. "I'll swing back through after I shower, we can head over together." She nods vigorously and he gives her a thumbs up as he steps towards the door. He pauses before he gets a hand on it and turns back, but Hanzo must see his hesitation coming. When Jesse glances to the register, Hanzo turns his back on the counter. He starts cleaning the back station with a rag—a station that looks perfectly clean already. The message is clear. Jesse bites his lip and leaves the shop.

He tries to rush his shower but still ends up a little late picking Mei up. She shrugs from her spot on a patio chair as he glances around on his approach. Hanzo is nowhere to be seen. He must be long gone. Jesse tries to push away the lingering sense of unease that's been building in the back of his mind all week and leads Mei toward the stadium and the endless mazes of the parking lots around it.

They chat as they make their way through the crowd, although Mei gets progressively quieter and more nervous the deeper in they go. Jesse gives her a reassuring clap on the shoulder just as a deep laugh booms from nearby. That must be Reinhardt. Jesse pauses to get his bearings and in his hesitation, he’s attacked from behind. 

Lena wraps her arms around his neck and locks her legs around his waist, getting only somewhat tangled in his serape. She cackles with triumph and snatches the hat off of his head as Mei relaxes, clearly pleased to see another familiar face in the sea of humanity. 

“No,” Jesse shoots over his shoulder and Lena heaves a heartfelt sigh. She drops the hat back in place and gives Mei a cheerful wave.

“Been wondering where you two got to. Hello, Mei!”

“Hi,” Mei grins. “Sorry, I had to finish my shift.”

“And apparently I wasn’t presentable enough to come straight here,” Jesse adds and Lena laughs. 

“Your artful grass stains, of course. Where’s—?”

“Not comin’,” Jesse cuts her off. “Where’s our spot?”

Lena shrugs without losing her balance. “Next row over, mate. Mush!”

Jesse lets go the minute he feels her relax her grip and she tumbles off his back. “Nice try.”

“Aww,” Lena pouts with good humor. “Alright, this way.”

She leads them to the small square of territory the others have laid claim to and tries to drag them straight over to some game involving PVC pipes and—are those golf balls on strings?—set up along the edge. “Jesse, you’ve got to be my partner. We’re taking on Fareeha and Reinhardt as a team next.”

“Hold on a minute, would you? Let me get Mei introduced—“ Jesse turns and realizes Mei’s no longer with them. He spots her back a few paces, giving Zarya a shy hello. “Oh. Never mind.”

“Looks like Zarya’s got that covered,” Lena says with a grin and an elbow to Jesse’s ribs as Zarya gives Mei an enormous hug. 

“Well, give me a second anyway,” Jesse says and sidles over next to Ana at the grill. “Ma’am,” he tips his hat. “Thanks for havin’ us again.”

“Haven’t I told you to call me Ana?” She gives him a one armed hug as she lays out hamburgers with some tongs. 

“You sure have, ma’am,” Jesse says with a cheeky grin and she swats his shoulder.

“None of that, or I’ll start to feel my age for once,” she smiles. “And we can’t have that. Go on and play, the food will be ready soon.”

Jesse gives her a tip of his hat and heads back to stand next to Lena on the sidelines of the strange game that seems to have the full concentration of Fareeha and Reinhardt. “So what are we playing?” he asks as Mei and Zarya follow him over.

“Pretty sure Fareeha called it ladder golf,” Lena answers as the game finishes up. Fareeha joins them with her arms raised in a victory pose while Reinhardt breaks off toward a cooler of drinks. Mei giggles as he makes a dramatic rendition of grief at his loss as he goes.

“Ladder what?” Jesse asks.

“You’ve never played ladder golf?” Fareeha asks in disbelief, idly swinging some of the golf balls around in her hand.

“Nope. Only lawn games I’ve ever played back home are murder lawn pool and battle croquet.”

Lena’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead as she gapes at him. “I think I’m a little afraid of your family, love.”

“You should be,” Jesse grins, giving her a wink. 

“I’m not questioning the murder part, but what is lawn pool?” Fareeha asks. “That sounds weird.”

“It’s the one with the Italian name I can never remember, where you throw pool balls around the yard,” Jesse shrugs. 

“Bocce ball?” Ana calls over from the grill. Jesse shrugs. “It’s the only lawn game I can think of that involves throwing things like that. I quite enjoy that one. What is the murder aspect?”

“We’re all holding heavy objects and it’s every man for himself, as usual,” Jesse grins. 

“I want to play that version,” Fareeha gives him a feral smile and he laughs. 

“Absolutely,” Jesse says. “I’m callin’ you on my team right now.”

“That would be a little difficult in a parking lot,” Reinhardt says as he rejoins them. “I think it is best suited for a yard. Fortunately, I have one! You should all come over and we will introduce the game to Lena and Zarya and to you, young lady.” He gives Mei a smile. “I do not think we’ve met yet, welcome to our tailgate!”

“This is Mei,” Jesse supplies as Mei gives him a shy wave. “She works in the same coffee shop as my roommate. Mei, this is Reinhardt. And over there is—“ He cuts off with a yelp when something cold and wet hits him square in the back of the neck and slides down his collar. Jesse twists and tries to fish the ice cube out of his shirt as the others laugh. “What was that for?”

“I was afraid you would call me Ms. Amari,” Ana gives him an innocent smile. “Preventative steps were required. I’m Ana, dear,” she says to Mei. 

“Hello, everyone,” Mei says as she tries to clamp down on her giggles. She takes pity on Jesse first and grabs his shoulders to stop his flailing, pulling on the back of his shirt and serape to let the ice cube fall out the bottom.

“Is just ice,” Zarya says with a grin, hands on her hips. “You can handle a little cold.”

Jesse harrumphs just as Lena says, “He’s a desert flower, Zarya, he’s delicate.”

“More like a cactus,” Jesse grins and Lena gives him a high five. 

“I enjoy how you didn’t protest the delicate part,” Fareeha laughs. Jesse shrugs.

“Very well, I will keep in mind you are prickly desert creature. Though a little cold is good for you,” Zarya says with a theatrical shake of her head.

“It is, indeed,” Reinhardt nods sagely. “Good for the heart.”

“We’ll all make a note of that,” Lena chuckles, tugging on one corner of Jesse’s serape to help him straighten the folds. Then she ruins all their hard work by giving him a good shove toward one of the PVC pipe structures, set up like a tiny three rung ladder. “So what was that battle croquet about?”

“Well,” Jesse scratches his head, ducking his shoulders a little. “That one’s just regular croquet. I just call it that to save face.”

“From what?” Mei tilts her head, shifting to stand discreetly closer to Zarya. Zarya grins down at her when she notices and throws an arm around her shoulders with considerably less subtlety. Mei beams a little.

“I was standin’ too close behind my sister when we were teachin’ her. She took this giant golf swing wind up and nailed me in the teeth,” Jesse grins. “Thought she knocked ‘em out for a minute.”

“What on earth were you doing standing right behind her?” Lena laughs as she pushes a few of the golf ball strings into his hands. 

Jesse shrugs, affecting disinterest. “Might have been eggin’ her on.”

“Then I think you may have deserved it,” Zarya chuckles as Fareeha comes to stand next to him and Lena regroups at the other ladder with Reinhardt. 

“Probably,” Jesse says with a smile. “All right, how do we play this thing?”

“Seriously,” Fareeha shakes her head. “You know bocce ball and croquet, but not ladder golf. Lena and Zarya get a pass, but you should know this. Mei, tell me you know how to play?”

Mei grins and nods. “Of course.”

“Excellent,” Reinhardt booms, holding out his golf ball strings to her. “You can be Fareeha’s partner. I shall help finish with the food.”

“It’s not complicated,” Fareeha says, waving a hand toward the ladder. “Try to wrap your golf balls around the bars of the opposite ladder. Three points for the top, two for the middle, one for the lowest bar. First to twenty-one wins.”

“And if you hit a car, you lose automatically,” Ana adds from where she’s now mixing something, having relinquished control of the grill. Reinhardt adds sausages to the already cooking hamburgers and gives them an encouraging thumbs up. 

“Gotcha,” Jesse says. “Let’s give this a try.” He throws his first ball and misses wildly, the golf balls clattering across the pavement. Lena jumps out of the way with millimeters to spare. “Shit. Any points for your teammate catchin’ it and puttin’ it on the ladder?”

“Negative points,” Fareeha laughs while she nails a perfect top rung wrap.

Jesse affects a pout and jerks back as Lena almost clips him in the face with her throw. But their skills do improve by the smallest of margins by the time Fareeha and Mei have blown them out of the water for the third time. He decides the siren call of food is enough excuse to save him from further embarrassment. 

Jesse hands his golf balls to Zarya and goes to the grill, grabbing a hamburger from the stack keeping warm and loading it down with toppings. He snags a seat between Ana and Reinhardt and takes a bite. The cheese stuffed into the hamburger’s center melts across his tongue in a cascade of flavor and he can’t stifle an appreciative groan.

“This is amazin’,” Jesse tells them once he’s managed to swallow. “Thank you kindly.”

“I am glad you like it,” Reinhardt says before shoving what looks like an entire hamburger into his own mouth.

“It’s our pleasure,” Ana says, taking a sip from her glass filled with what may or may not be tea. She nods towards the ongoing game. “Would something like this pass muster at your home? Or does it need more bloodshed?”

“We’ll add that part ourselves,” Jesse laughs. “I think I need more practice first. No sense getting’ smoked when Genji makes it look easy on his first try.”

“Another sibling?” Ana asks with a tilt to her head.

“Might as well be,” Jesse says after swallowing another bite. “He’s my best friend, but he does pretty much lives with us.” He gives the game a contemplative stare as Mei manages to bounce her golf balls off the second rung to wrap around the top and cheers with a little hop. “You know, this might be a game I could actually beat abuela at if I practice enough. She’s the undisputed queen of all lawn games, but I don’t know if she’s played this one. We’ll have to get damn good at it before her next visit.”

“Provided you actually practice and don’t just throw golf balls at each other, of course,” Ana says with a grin as Lena slides into the next empty chair with a full plate of her own.

“Yeah,” Jesse agrees. “The second option’s more likely than not.”

“Seriously, mate,” Lena says with her mouth full. “Your family sounds insane. Not sure if it makes me sad I never had siblings or just very, very glad.”

“I’ll take you home sometime,” Jesse says with a sharp grin. “Let you get the full experience, make an informed decision.” He finishes his hamburger as Lena shudders dramatically. 

“Is there a waiver I need to sign?” Lena grins and Jesse elbows her before Fareeha whisks his empty plate away and yanks him back to the ladder golf set. They wrap up a few hours later, just as Jesse negates all of his skill improvement by rolling his last ball into a car tire and loses him and Zarya the game by default.

Zarya throws her arms in the air in an outraged display but gives him a bone jarring high five anyway. They help clean up as much as they can get away with before Ana bodily kicks them out and tells them to go on in and fight to the death for good seats in the student section. Mei waves them goodbye as she prepares to split off, but Zarya catches her before she gets too far and gives her a farewell hug. Mei leaves with a little blush and a big smile.

Before the rest of them get too far into the crowd, Jesse spots a familiar blonde ponytail bobbing up ahead. “Angela!” he shouts at the top of his lungs over the chaos around them. Angela halts and spins around, searching until her gaze falls on Jesse as he waves his hat in the air. They catch up to her in short order. “You headed in alone?” Jesse asks, seeing no one with her.

“Yes,” Angela says, smiling at the group as they fan around her to shield her from the current of people streaming around them. “I was going with my roommate and some of her friends, but…”

“They’re too drunk?” Lena asks, her grin cheerful.

“They are,” Angela agrees with a rueful laugh. “They showed no signs of leaving their chairs so I decided to come in myself.”

“Want to stick with us?” Jesse asks, waving an arm at the rest of his group. “This is Lena, Fareeha, and Zarya, all of whom kick my sorry ass at ultimate every week. Girls, this is Angela. We’ve got the same English class.”

“Cheers, love!” Lena chirps as the other two nod their own greetings. 

“Sure, I’d love to,” Angela says and falls in step with the group. 

“Angela’s a big fan of your real football,” Jesse tells Lena and Fareeha gives a playfully outraged shout.

“Fantastic!” Lena says, pushing Fareeha away by the shoulder. “Don’t listen to her, you’ve got good taste. Far better than this rubbish, hands down.”

“To be fair,” Angela says diplomatically, giving Fareeha a shy smile. “I haven’t seen much of this version. I don’t know how I feel about it just yet.” Fareeha nods, satisfied with her answer for the moment.

“Well, if you or Zarya have questions, Fareeha’s the one to ask. I don’t think she appreciated us as students of the game last time she tried explainin’ things,” Jesse says as they start climbing to the nearest free bleacher.

“You and Lena are lost causes,” Fareeha says. The golden beads in her dark hair clink against each other as she shakes her head. “I’d be happy to try with a more receptive audience.” 

“I’m pretty sure it’s the game that’s the lost cause,” Lena mutters to Jesse, but she doesn’t lower her voice enough to avoid Fareeha’s retaliatory elbow. 

“Ignore them,” Fareeha says with great decorum as she claims a seat, directing Zarya and Angela to settle on either side of her. 

“Oh, love,” Lena says with a wicked grin. “Now we’ll have to make that damn near impossible.”

“Challenge accepted,” Jesse adds and Fareeha sighs. 

But Zarya surprises them by poking hard fingers into Jesse and Lena’s spines. “Quiet,” she says in a severe tone, before giving Fareeha a mock bow. “The master is speaking.” Angela hides her giggles behind her hand as Fareeha nods regally and embarks on her lecture. 

Jesse decides that good company improves the game by leaps and bounds, and is pleased to see everyone in high spirits when they regroup with Ana and Reinhardt for their traditional post-game dinner. The lively American football versus rugby debate that sparks before they even order is loud and hilarious and Jesse’s cheeks ache from laughing so much. Not that he can contribute, but Angela seems to have more than ample back-up between Lena and even Reinhardt, though he switches to Fareeha and Ana’s side on more than one occasion. Jesse and Zarya share baffled shrugs and smiles as they watch the show.

Particularly when Angela whips out her phone and starts searching for a local rugby game she can drag them all to so they can compare for themselves. But she does admit that she enjoyed the football game and thanks Fareeha for her tutorial with warmth. Jesse squints, trying to make out if it’s a faint blush darkening Fareeha’s cheeks or just shadows from the dim restaurant. He can’t quite tell, but he has the sense she won’t be protesting the newly required rugby viewing with any heat.

Jesse’s good mood starts dissipating as he climbs the stairs to his dorm step by step, thoughts drifting to the room upstairs and the occupant possibly sulking within. He pushes the door open with caution as he scans the room with an alert eye before entering for once in his life. 

Sure enough, Hanzo is bowed over his desk. He has a thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders, looking far more like body armor than something comforting. His giant headphones send a yet another clear message. Jesse watches his profile, taking note of his dark scowl as Hanzo sort of just stares at his textbook. He doesn't look like he's actually reading it. 

Jesse stands in the doorway and studies his roommate with a frown of his own. He put no subtlety into his entrance and he's sure Hanzo knows he's there. Hanzo's intense glare may be directed at his desk, but Jesse feels like his focus is on the doorway. Like he's hoping Jesse will decide to get on his with own life and leave Hanzo to his foul mood in peace. 

And now that he's really looking, he can also see lines of anxiety in the tension of Hanzo's shoulders. However generally pissed off he might be, Hanzo also seems…afraid. Jesse certainly isn't reserved as a rule; he'd bet money that Hanzo is just waiting for him to drop an overbearing and unwelcome hand of comfort and consolation on him.

Well, Hanzo might not know it yet, but he's lucky. Jesse has the patience of a saint and is well versed in waiting for others to be ready for him. He's not one to use force when it's not the right tool for the job. 

In fact, maybe his long experiences back home will come in handy after all. 

Jesse spins on his heel and walks back out, snagging his meal card as he goes and making sure the door shuts behind him with a gentle click. He makes the journey through the halls and down a few floors to the dining hall, glad he decided to wear a serape today after all. It'll make smuggling the goods a lot easier.

He breezes in and makes a beeline for the drink station. Jesse pauses when he gets to meager tea selection and frowns at it. His abuela had been very particular that everything in the ritual of tea be just right and she'd spent a long time training him to perfect it. Tea is one thing that almost immediately helps calm Gabe, so Jesse had learned to make it well. Even though he can’t stand the taste of the stuff himself. It just means he can make a damn good cup for anyone who wants it. His abuela would have it no other way.

But he doesn't like the options in front of him. There's only a few kinds and all of them are the bottom shelf tea bags filled with the dust off a tea factory floor in lieu of actual leaves. He half-heartedly pokes around the rest of the drink station in the vain hope something better will materialize in front of him from wishes alone. Jesse returns to the boxes of what passes for tea in a cafeteria with a scowl. He picks out the least offensive option, something green and light that he hopes Hanzo will find refreshing. 

He stuffs a few packets of different sweeteners into his pockets, not sure if any of them will be required. He then sets about brewing as good a cup as he can, given the limitations. He'd kill for a good pot and some decent leaves right about now but the bag straight in the mug will have to do. Jesse pauses as he pulls it out once it finishes steeping and makes a mental note to ask Lena. Despite her adventures into any and all combinations of sugar and coffee, he knows she's an equal opportunity tea drinker. She might have a better idea how to get a good cup in a dorm room.

Jesse discretely slips his serape over the stolen mug and ambles out of the cafeteria without being stopped. He's careful not to spill a drop as he makes the annoyingly long trek back up to the room and tries to be quiet as he opens the door. 

He sees Hanzo's shoulders tense as he sidles up to the desk. Jesse swings back the edge of his serape and sets the mug down by Hanzo's elbow, laying out the sweeteners with deliberate care. Then he retreats to his side of the room without a word. Jesse climbs into his loft to leave Hanzo the peace he so clearly desires. 

Jesse tries to let that be the end of it but he's restless, mind wandering from the text book in front of him back to his meager offering. He scoots over as soundlessly as he can and peeks over the edge of his bed to get an idea of Hanzo's reaction, against his better judgment.

Hanzo is sitting back in his chair, blanket slumping off one shoulder, as he stares at the cup without moving. Jesse's heart sinks a little. Maybe this wasn't such a brilliant idea after all. 

But then Hanzo reaches out a tentative hand and picks up the mug, bringing it to his nose and inhaling the dissipating steam with a long indrawn breath. He takes a small sip. Then he lets the air back out of his lungs with a sigh that sounds a little relieved to Jesse's admittedly hopeful ears. But he knows he's not imagining the way a little bit of the tension seeps out of Hanzo's shoulders.

Jesse turns back to his book and tries to scold himself for spying on his roommate. But he can't wipe the smile off his face.

He's finally getting into the groove of the dry as bones text without letting his mind drift when he hears the clink of ceramic hitting a hard surface and the rustling of a blanket. Hanzo comes into Jesse's line of vision as he stands and gathers up a towel and his shower supplies, pausing at the door to the bathroom that they share with Jamie and Mako. Jesse turns to look at him when he doesn't move and sees Hanzo giving him a considering, if still guarded, look. 

Before Jesse can say anything, Hanzo gives him a slow bow. When he straightens, his expression is lighter than Jesse can remember seeing in days. Jesse gives him a grin and a fond nod back and Hanzo slips through the door. 

Jesse waits a few beats before curiosity gets the best of him and he jumps down from his loft, padding over to investigate the remains of the tea. Hanzo used none of the sweeteners but the cup itself is empty and Jesse smiles stupidly. He makes a mental note of Hanzo's apparent preferences and wipes the stolen mug as well as he can, leaving it on his own desk as a reminder to wash it once Hanzo is out of the shower.

But the long day takes its toll on him and Jesse doesn’t make it through Hanzo’s customary ridiculously long shower before he gives in to the urge to sleep. He wakes to an empty dorm room, as usual. Jesse stretches before he climbs down from his loft and reaches for his own shower supplies, hand wandering across his empty desk before his brain comes fully online. He pauses when it clicks that the mug is missing and he does a cursory sweep of the room. 

The mug sits in the corner of Hanzo’s desk. Jesse picks it up and notices it’s perfectly clean, ready to be used again. He grins a little to himself and reaches to set it back down, halting with outstretched arm when he realizes what the mug was sitting in front of: the little green statuette. 

Jesse takes shameless advantage of the empty room and leans in to get a closer look at the figure, still not daring to touch it. It’s some kind of lithe, sinewy creature painted in shades of bright green with subtle flashes of silver. Maybe a dragon? No, the texture of the skin looks rough, almost like fur. It looks like a ferret. 

Jesse frowns at it. The little figure looks starkly out of place on Hanzo’s otherwise almost impersonal desk. And the fact it appeared at about the same time as Hanzo’s new and perpetual dark mood must mean something. But what on earth could such a pretty little thing have to do to with it? Jesse has to concede that unless the statue starts talking to him, he’s not going to solve this mystery by just staring at it. He sets the mug back in place and goes to start his own day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eledhiel: so what do you do at a tailgate?  
> rochnariel: right. you were a hermit in college   
> eledhiel: yeah but for real, what do you do  
> rochnariel: *sighs* eat food, play games, talk…not that hard of a concept.  
> eledhiel: ok but what kind of games  
> rochnariel: ...you’re hopeless.
> 
> Uriel_Ignatius121: Jack’s adventure is actually totally based on a conversation Rochnariel overheard when picking up the PC version of Overwatch. Perfect material to work with for that scene.
> 
> FluffHelpsEverything: Here you go! =D This is about as quickly as we can get these days, but hopefully next chapter of Reaper the cat's thing should be up soon? Hope that counts.
> 
> Kim: Yep, Zenyatta is only 10 years older than Genji, to kind of go with how young he actually is in canon too.
> 
> Sweet_garlic: Thank you so much! We're trying so hard haha. And we know right? Jack's totally an asshole...just with a chewy soft center. And Gabe is very caring, just also very dedicated to his aesthetic. 
> 
> Jordan_Banana_Phant: Thanks for all the comments. They made Eledhiel’s no good, horrible day much better. Funny enough, neither of us actually had to take an English Comp class in college, whoops. But we definitely had professors that tried to cram information in up to the very last minute of every class, information overload. We also might be actively trying to cram every modern AU we can think of into one. We think we’ve got them all. Also we were totally not the cool kids, we just have the greatest group of friends ever.


	18. the electric tea kettle problem

"You need a what now?" Lena asks, tilting her head. Jesse pauses as José shrieks that Rosa never loved him anyway, the Spanish dialogue tinny through the laptop speakers. Lena turns back too, gasping theatrically as Rosa slaps José across the face and screams about betrayal. "That's no way to answer a man when he asks for a puppy, mate!"

Jesse almost chokes on his water as he laughs, setting the bottle onto the floor beside him before he drops it. He has to admit the telenova has somehow gotten even better with Lena's misguided commentary. "How do you know she ain't deathly allergic?" he asks, coughing the remaining water out of his airway. "Might be an assassination attempt, for all you know."

Lena shrugs. "Wouldn't be surprised if it were, true enough." The episode ends with a dramatic reveal that Alejandro and Angelica are long lost twins separated at birth. Lena lights up. "I got this one! They're secret siblings, aren't they?"

"Twins," Jesse nods as he pushes his computer away from the textbooks they're definitely not reading. "Good job, I'll mark that one on your scorecard."

"One for fifty, I'm on a roll!" Lena grins and slumps back against Jesse's dresser. "So I'm not sure I heard you right over the screaming, what did you say you need?"

Jesse stretches his long legs out and crosses his ankles, careful not to kick Hanzo's empty desk chair. He glances up at the mug on the shelf before he says, still mumbling a little, "A good way to brew tea in a dorm. Got any ideas?"

Lena makes a face of disgust. "I hope you don't mean that sorry excuse for a cuppa in the caf."

Jesse shrugs. "That's all I had to work with last time, and I regret it to this day."

Lena chuckles, shaking her head. Then she squints at him. "I didn't know you were a tea man. I've never seen you drink anything but that liquid mud in all my life."

"You've known me for two months," Jesse retorts, but he can't help the way his cheeks are heating up. 

"Aha," she crows. Lena glances at Hanzo's side and takes stock, eyes fixing on the mug that is clearly stolen from the dining hall. "The truth emerges!"

"Just because I ain't drinkin' that steamed leaf juice myself don't mean I can't make a damn good cup," Jesse says, playing up his indignation. 

Lena's smile turns blinding. "Oh, love, even better," she chirps. Jesse frowns and she taps a finger on the tip of his nose. "You're not just 'asking for a friend', you're making him tea yourself! Tell me I'm wrong."

Jesse yanks his hat down around his ears. "He was havin' a bad day," he grouses.

Lena leans her head on his shoulder and pats him on the knee. "I think it's sweet. Although I don't know how you improved matters with the rubbish they call tea around here. We'll have to level up on that straight away."

"Got an idea?" 

"See, they've got these fancy new things called shops these days, where you can buy real tea direct instead of voyaging into the fields and picking it yourself—" Lena cuts off with a giggle when Jesse elbows her.

"I know that part," he says. "I was thinkin' more the hot water. I take it you ain't smugglin' that out of the dinin' hall."

"Of course not," Lena says. She starts gathering her scattered books and notes and shoving them into her messenger bag, clearly not bothered in the slightest to abandon their impromptu study session now that the episode is over. "I have a right proper kettle, as everyone should."

Jesse raises his eyebrows. "In a dorm room?" 

"It's electric," Lena grins. She pops to her feet and hauls Jesse up after her. "You can get those in the shops too, it's like magic."

Jesse blinks at her. "I've never heard of somethin' like that." 

"Man's best invention, let me tell you," Lena nods. "Come on, walk me back. We can pick one up for you while we’re out."

Jesse kicks his books across the floor so they're at least contained on his side of the room before following her out the door. "I only really make it at home, if Gabe's havin' a bad day. Abuela taught me how to do it proper. But she's never touched anything but a stovetop kettle in all her life," Jesse says as he falls in step beside her. "I tried to microwave the water once and she almost skinned me alive."

Lena laughs. "And good on her! That's an act of war, that is."

They take their time meandering across campus in the late afternoon sunshine. They pause every now and then to pack in some quality people watching time as students stream from class to class before Lena pulls him into the Target nearest campus. She leads him unerringly through the aisles until she yanks him to a stop, hopping next to the shelf to put on her best Vanna White impression. 

"And here you see," she says, affecting a much posher accent as she flairs her arms, "the newfangled fancy invention taking the world by storm: the electric kettle! All the rage, mate."

"Well, I'll be damned," Jesse grins, picking up one of the cheapest options and turning the box over in his hands. "And here I was thinkin' I'd have to set up a campfire on the lawn."

"It'd work with your aesthetic," Lena says, clapping him on the shoulder and leaning in to read the label. "You'd probably get away with it. Not that one, get the other one."

Jesse shrugs and switches out the boxes. "So long as it works. Now where's the actual tea?"

They stop next in front of a veritable smorgasbord of tea options, more brands than Jesse can count packed onto the shelves. He starts reaching for a green tea but flounders with his arm outstretched, frowning at the sheer number of options before him. 

Lena skips back and forth, loading her arms down with a few boxes for herself, before coming to stand next to him. "What are you getting?"

"Well," Jesse bites his lip. "I made him green tea and he seemed to like it. But that was just the stupid bag from downstairs, I doubt he'd actually drink that with this many other things to choose from. I don't drink tea at all, how should I know what to get?"

Lena shrugs, balancing her selections—a chai, some kind of earl grey, something minty—effortlessly. "No idea." She cants her elbow to lift up her third choice and nods to it, a peppermint blend of some kind. "This is as far from black as I ever go. Think he'd go for something like that? Otherwise, I don't know what to tell you."

"Maybe," Jesse hazards. He squints at the shelves as an idea occurs to him, either a good one or the worst he's had in a long time. Nothing for it but to find out. It's not like Genji won't be teasing him anyway. But it’s either ask him or ask Hanzo himself, and Jesse’s hesitant to do that. He doesn’t want to give Hanzo the chance to talk him out of this—or just flat out refuse the gesture. "One sec." He pulls out his phone.

> sent << what kind of boiled grass do you drink again

He looks back at Lena's mint tea, tipping the box with a forefinger to read the brand. "Won't hurt to try, I suppose." He picks up a second box of the bagged loose tea, figuring at the very least that'll improve on the dining hall experience. His phone chimes just as he's going back to frown at the unreasonable plethora of green options again. 

> carrot-top >> lolll green?? why
> 
> sent << yeah but what’s a good one
> 
> carrot-top >> they’re ALL good ones  
>  carrot-top >> I like it with like rose-thingies and orange blended in  
>  carrot-top >> ARE YOU GIVING TEA ANOTHER SHOT YOU HEATHEN?
> 
> sent << absolutely not

Jesse spots a nice looking blend that approximates Genji's description and frowns at the box. He worries at his lip before shrugging and snagging it off the shelf. “Guess this’ll do to start.” 

Lena pops back over to his shoulder, her armfuls somehow having doubled when he wasn’t paying attention. “That looks lovely,” she says. “And if he doesn’t like it, not like he can’t get another.”

“Fair enough,” he nods. 

They meander back out into the setting sun and drift campus-ward, taking a somewhat circuitous route to stave off further studying. Lena splits off when they near her dorm after dragging their feet with a cheerful, "See you in the morning, love!" Jesse nods and gives her a wave, swinging his bag of purchases idly from his fingers as he goes. 

He entertains himself with an internal debate as he walks, trying to decide how best to inflict his new acquisitions on Hanzo. Should he hide them and bring them out with fanfare when Hanzo returns to the room? Or maybe arrange the kettle and tea options nicely on his desk so he'll see it right away when he walks in? Jesse grins to himself. Maybe he should pretend he'd always had this stuff and had just forgotten when he'd made the trek to the cafeteria. Hanzo might make a fuss when he realizes Jesse bought it all specially for him. Going from the near complete lack of personal items on the other side of the room, Jesse gets the sense Hanzo isn't one to splurge on himself. 

Or maybe, Jesse frowns to himself, he might not have the pocket change lying around to do so. Hanzo spends an awful lot of time working at the coffee shop to be strapped for cash, so he’s either just that thrifty or he might very well be paying for his own tuition. Jesse has to remind himself that however much he likes the guy, he doesn't really know a whole lot about him. Hanzo may very well be trying to put himself through school with no help. 

Whatever the case, it might be safest to err on the side of discretion with his new equipment. Maybe he should even make himself a cup and pretend to enjoy it, just to head off any possible protests. Jesse shudders at the thought.

He shoulders through the lobby door and makes his way to the dorm stairs, bumping into a familiar cheery face as he climbs. "Oi, mate," Jamie salutes him. "What's cookin'?"

"Howdy," Jesse gives him a grin. "Nothin' much. Just out runnin' an errand." Jamie makes an inquisitive noise so Jesse holds out his plastic bag, getting a whiff of the vaguely smoky scent that seems to cling to Jamie's wild hair as he peers inside. 

"Ooh," Jamie says, eyes taking on a positively gleeful shine. "Imagine all the things a body could do with that!"

"I'd rather not," Jesse laughs. "Think I'll just use it for the purpose intended."

"Boring," Jamie sticks out his tongue. 

"We can't all be mad scientists," Jesse says, arms spread in an apologetic shrug. Jamie heaves a dramatic sigh. 

"Suppose that's how it is," Jamie says with a faux solemn nod. Then his long face splits into a grin as he elbows Jesse and waggles his eyebrows—what's left of them, anyway. "How many of the likes of me could the world handle, eh?" He cackles as Jesse shakes his head playfully before he starts clattering down the stairs. "See you around, mate! Tell your recluse I said cheers, would you? Oh," he stops halfway between one step and the next and pivots around to wink up at Jesse. "And give him a good clap on the back too. Looks like he got himself one hell of a catch!"

"Sure," Jesse says before the words sink in. "Hold up, what?"

Jamie whistles. "You just wait ‘til you see that sheila he brought back with him. Didn't think the guy spoke to other humans ever, but he musta done somethin' right. She had that same kind of high 'n mighty scowl he always does, look like they're made for each other. I'm tellin' you, if either of us ever land a guy or gal that fine, we probably won't deserve it." He cackles again and waves over his head as he tumbles down the stairs. "See you around!"

Jesse stares after him, rooted to the spot on the landing. A few other students jostle him as they go by but Jesse can't scrape together the presence of mind to move. His whole focus is taken up by the cold pit forming in his stomach. His mind is awash with the white noise buzzing in his ears.

He shakes himself and tightens his grip around the bag with numb fingers as he forces himself up the stairs. It's probably fine? Maybe it's just a friend. Does Hanzo have any friends? Jesse stops himself again long enough cringe at his own thoughts as they spiral out of control. Of course he must have friends. This could totally just be one of them.

And even if it's more than that, it's fine. Or so he tries to sternly convince himself. It's not like Jesse has ever come out and said he has an enormous and all-consuming crush on the guy. He's got no right or claim to defend or anything. Jesse doesn't even know if Hanzo actually likes guys at all.

Maybe he never had a shot in the first place. Jesse tries to straighten his slumping shoulders and forces a deeper breath than he feels like taking into his lungs. 

Then he pushes open the door to his room and sure enough, it's not empty.

Hanzo sits at his desk almost sideways to make room for the second occupant, squeezed in beside him on the chair that must be stolen from Jesse's own desk. All he can see of her from this angle is a long cascade of shiny black hair, until it sweeps aside in an elegant wave as she looks over her shoulder. Jesse's breath almost catches in his throat. Jamie was right, she is beautiful. And he has the distinct impression he's being judged as he hovers in the doorway and has been found wanting—by both of them.

Jesse's courage fails him.

"Don't mind me," he says, the words tumbling out of his mouth without his conscious input. "I ain't stayin'." The girl nods and turns back to the desk. Hanzo gives him a slight tilt of the head before joining her. Their heads are bent closely together as they read the same text. Jesse can’t tear his eyes away, watches as Hanzo reaches over to point out a portion of the text and brushes his fingers against the girl’s hand. She jerks her hand back a little from the touch but Jesse forces himself to turn away, afraid to keep watching.

Jesse shoves the plastic bag deep into the bowels of his closet, kicking the door shut. Then he loads up his backpack with a few haphazard books and high tails it back to the hall. He tumbles to a stop once the door clicks shut behind him and sags back against the wall. His backpack dangles from his hand as he resists the urge to slide down to the floor by sheer willpower alone.

He tries to take a deep, calming breath. Then he bangs the back of his head against the wall in a series of soft thumps, scrunching the brim of his hat. "Just be his friend," he whispers to himself, repeating what he'd told Gabe about his intentions like a mantra. "No matter what else, just be his friend. He deserves nothin’ less."

He stands there breathing deeply long enough he starts getting weird looks from passersby. So he hauls himself off the wall and heads back downstairs before someone can send the RA to check on him. He takes in a huge lungful of the cooling night air to see if that makes any difference. 

It doesn't. Jesse pulls out his phone.

> sent << can i come over

He starts walking, a direction in his mind but his route aimless. His phone chimes before he gets any measureable distance from his dorm so yanks it back out, hoping for a yes. But it's unrelated. And vague.

> carrot-top >> again I ask why

Jesse frowns, scrolling back up the feed to jolt his memory. Ah, yes. His sudden interest in varieties of tea. Genji knows full well that Jesse usually pulls the first canister his hand falls on out of the cabinet at home and pays no more heed to it than the differences in preparation require.

But he's not feeling up to a lively debate right now. He decides to play dumb, for all of the thirty seconds of peace that will buy him.

> sent << why what

His phone chimes again just as he hits send.

> tracer! >> OF COURSE  
>  tracer! >> y though??? did smth happen?!? =(

Jesse doesn't answer. He pockets his phone and picks up his pace. He ignores the next chime it makes as he gets to the lobby door, the touch of a subdued smile tugging at his lips when he sees he doesn't have to let Lena know he's here. She's standing at the door waiting to let him in.

"Thanks," he says as she opens it and all but yanks him inside. He tries to school his expression into neutrality but he's probably doing a terrible job. The only thing tempering his sudden attack of depression is the nagging idea that he's overreacting. Which is just making it worse.

Lena frowns at him. "Are you okay?" She folds her arms across her chest and plants her feet.

"Yeah," he says on a sigh he can't quite bottle up. Jesse pulls off his hat and runs a hand through his hair. "It's not that bad, I promise. I'm just...I needed a spot to hang out, is all." Lena doesn't say anything. She just raises an eyebrow, her face growing exponentially more concerned. Jesse huffs, replacing his hat. "Hanzo's got someone over. They're working on something. I didn't want to get in the way."

Lena opens her mouth in a silent 'ah'. She loops an arm through Jesse's elbow and starts tugging him towards the elevators. But she doesn't lose the frown. "Working on something...for a class?"

Jesse shrugs. "Don't know. But..." he stops himself, face scrunching up as he swallows the words that crawl up his throat. "I'm sure it's just for a class," he goes on instead, trying to make himself sound a little less pathetic. "Don't know what about, I don't really know what he's takin'. Look, I'm just bein' stupid."

"But?" Lena jostles his arm, twisting sideways to look him in the eye as they walk. 

"She's real pretty," he says quietly, making a face at himself. 

"Oh, love," Lena says, wrapping him in a sideways hug as the elevator ascends. "You're not being stupid. It's okay to have a little panic now and again. The brain says one thing but the heart doesn't always get the memo, am I right?"

"I just," he starts again, clutching his backpack tighter as the fear that made its debut in his brain earlier slams into him again. "I don't really know what he likes. And it's totally fine if he don't," he plows ahead when Lena opens her mouth, words tumbling out of him like a dam breaking, "you know, like guys. That's okay, I've got no right to expect anythin' from him. I shouldn't _be_ expectin' anythin' from him at all. I should just be a fuckin' friend, I'm a terrible fuckin' person." Jesse drops his bag and buries his face in both hands.

"No, you're not," Lena says sharply, threading her arms back under his elbows to renew her tight hug. "You are absolutely not, Jesse McCree. You've gone above and beyond already for him, and don't even try to blame it on your crush." She pokes him in the side as she says it and Jesse closes his mouth. "You've done just as much for the rest of us, and I sure hope you aren't in love with the lot of us at the same time. Well,” she stops and tilts her head, “unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

A short laugh escapes Jesse’s throat as he shakes his head.

“Yeah, I thought not. Look, we tease you a fair bit about him, sure. But you're the kind of guy that drops everything to help, be it at home or for total strangers. That's just who you are, mate."

Jesse swallows hard, still frowning. But he lets her tug his hands away from his face. She picks up his bag as the elevator doors open. "I mean, that's just...that ain’t—"

"Are you kidding me? I've seen it happen, you can't argue," Lena cuts him short as she tugs him down the hall. "So you tell all that self-loathing where to shove it, have your little well-deserved freak out, and come hide in our room for as long as you want. Oh," she spins around to walk backward and gives him a serious look. "You'd better be able to sing all the songs if we do Disney or Fareeha might throw popcorn at you all night."

"I'll consider myself warned," Jesse says around a weak chuckle.

Lena nods and kicks open the door to her room. "Honey, we're home," she shouts as she throws Jesse's backpack into a corner. Jesse follows her in and has to take a second to gape at the sheer number of things crammed inside, in an arrangement that shouldn't be physically possible. 

One bed perches across two dressers with what looks like the entertainment motherlode stuffed in underneath. The other loft hangs precariously over an entire couch, jammed in beside a papasan chair of all things. He's pretty sure the mini-fridge in the corner is what serves as the loft ladder. And every square inch of wall space visible on both sides of the room—and probably plenty that isn’t visible—is covered in posters of every single aircraft invented by mankind, interspersed with random band record covers.

Lena shoves him onto the couch before he can draw attention to whatever black magic is keeping the room contained and thereby break the spell.

"Jesse," Fareeha says with some surprise as she pops up from the loft over the TV. She frowns. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," he croaks, pulling his knees to his chest as he sinks into the corner of the couch. 

"He's not but he will be," Lena says, crouching in front of the entertainment system. "Anyone object to Lilo and Stitch? No? Good."

"Sounds fine," Fareeha agrees as she jumps down from the loft with a solid landing. She yanks a packet of popcorn from what must be thin air and heads over to the microwave balanced precariously on the windowsill of all things, as if this was a night they'd all long planned.

Jesse buries his face in his arms and tries to take another deep breath. He still can't shake the snide voice in his head that says he’s blowing nothing way out of proportion, that says he’s just pitching a fit for no reason like a whiny toddler. 

But Lena throws herself onto the couch next to him and drapes herself against his side, resting her head on his shoulder. And Fareeha plops into the papasan chair right next to him and stretches out her legs to poke at his boots with her toes. He huffs a little laugh and wrestles out of them, somehow not dislodging Lena with his squirming. Fareeha wastes no time planting her feet in his lap once he’s settled cross-legged.

Jesse slumps back into the couch, warmed a little despite his morose thoughts with his friends on either side. His phone chimes again and Lena tilts away from him, allowing him to get to it. Jesse makes a face; he feels like he can’t ignore it now. He yanks it out.

> carrot-top >> jesssssssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee  
>  carrot-top >> why the sudden and suspicious interest in tea here
> 
> sent << why is this suspicious

Jesse goes to put it back but Genji’s response is almost instantaneous.

> carrot-top >> you hate tea  
>  carrot-top >> a leopard does not change his colors overnight or whatever
> 
> sent << what
> 
> carrot-top >> you know what I mean  
>  carrot-top >> WHY ARE YOU ASKING ABOUT TEA

Jesse frowns at the phone. He knows Genji means well, but he can get…carried away. And Jesse is not in the mood to discuss the situation at any length. It’s hard enough keeping up with Genji’s rapid fire texting style on a good day.

> sent << its nothing, keep your shirt on  
>  sent << it was just a question
> 
> carrot-top >> is it for The Roommate????  
>  carrot-top >> some sort of weird courtship ritual????? do I need to try tea next time????

Jesse scowls so hard he folds inward and Lena squawks, displaced. She snuggles closer, trying to wrap him in a hug again. She also tries to subtly steal his phone but he pulls it from her grasp.

Then Fareeha nails him in the nose with a piece of popcorn. “If that’s what’s making you make that face, put it away.” Jesse glances over and she fixes him with a serious stare. “I mean it, you’re supposed to be relaxing. In the pocket or I throw it out the window.”

“Okay, okay,” Jesse says, letting out a laugh that’s more of a sigh than anything else.

> sent << genji im busy, gotta go
> 
> carrot-top >> but but but  
>  carrot-top >> you always have time to gossip with me  
>  carrot-top >> :-(
> 
> sent << later

He puts the phone on silent and shoves it back into his pocket before Genji’s next response can come through. Fareeha gives him an approving nod. “Much better,” she says. He gives her a weak smile.

Lena cuddles up closer again when he replaces his arm. He lets the movie he’s barely following and the girls’ idle chatter wash over him, trying to focus on anything but the pervasively unpleasant thoughts that keep circling in his brain. So what if Hanzo isn’t into guys? So what if that girl goes from being a class friend to something more? Who cares? Jesse can handle it. He’ll have this one little hiccup, this mood misstep. Then he’ll bounce back and take it all in stride. 

Hanzo will go on with his life and Jesse will meet other people and get over his stupid crush. Easy.

Jesse fools himself for precisely three minutes while something explodes in all its cartoonish glory on screen. Then his brain starts its spiral all over again. 

The papasan chair creaks as Fareeha leans forward and swats at his hat brim. “So why do you always wear this hat?” she asks, derailing his thoughts.

“Hmm?” Jesse tilts it back with the hand not trapped beneath Lena’s lightly napping body. “Oh. Uhm, it’s just part of my style, I guess.”

Fareeha shoots him a fond look. “You’re awfully dedicated to the look.”

“Yeah,” Jesse shrugs his free shoulder. “Mamá used to tell me it belonged to my dad, before I lost her too. Don’t have much left from back then, so yeah. Guess I’m a little attached.”

Fareeha hums appreciatively. “May I see?”

“Sure,” Jesse says, pulling it off. But before he can toss it over, Lena surprises them both by shooting out an arm and snatching it out of his hand. She hugs it to her chest and curls around it, clearly pretending to go back to sleep. 

“Hey!” Fareeha snaps. “I called dibs on that.”

Lena cackles, disrupting her poor imitation of unconsciousness. 

“Guess she is too,” Jesse chuckles. 

“Unfair,” Fareeha says with a righteous huff. “Make no mistake, I will have my revenge.”

“Whatever you say, love,” Lena says. She twists in her seat to lay lengthwise on the couch, back slumped against Jesse’s arm to keep it captive. She sets the hat over her face with great satisfaction.

“Dunno,” Jesse says, bouncing his shoulder to jostle her. “Think she means it.”

“You’ll protect me,” Lena says, voice muffled through leather.

“Well…” he hedges and Lena gasps, sweeping the hat off and tilting her head back to give him an artfully betrayed stare.

But before she can protest, the remaining bowlful of popcorn showers down over both their heads. “Justice rains from above!”

Lena shrieks with laughter as she picks up handfuls to throw back as Fareeha looms over them. Jesse doesn’t sweat the small stuff and lunges off the couch, catching Fareeha around the middle in a full body tackle. Lena pounces on the both of them and they start a full on wrestling match. 

Jesse finally starts to feel a little lighter. 

The movies bleed into each other as they talk and make fun of each other. Fareeha keeps the popcorn flowing for purposes of both sustenance and ammunition. Jesse’s barely awake as he helps them clean up, then contemplates the trek back to his dorm. He’s pretty sure Hanzo’s friend must have gone home by now, it being two in the morning. But…what if she hasn’t? 

Jesse groans softly to himself and scrubs a hand down his face. He doesn’t want to go back.

The girls seem to have read his thoughts. Fareeha climbs into her loft and tosses a pillow over the side, straight into his arms. He blinks down at it before looking up at her.

“I have plenty,” Fareeha waves a hand. “It’s like a nest up here, I promise. You’re not going back, are you?”

“Uh,” Jesse starts. He gets no farther before Lena drapes a blanket around his shoulders. She gives him a shove back toward the couch. 

“Why do you think we have this bloody thing? Down you get.”

“Thanks,” he says, a little embarrassed. But he’s also pleased, and relieved. He curls into the couch, turning the volume back up on his phone to enable the alarms without looking at the screen. Then he tries to shut down his brain while he listens to the girls settle and the breeze sigh in through the window, rustling the blinds. 

Then, because removing all thoughts of Hanzo is apparently something his mind isn’t willing to do, he picks up his phone again. The last time he’d disappeared over night hadn’t gone over well, so Jesse bites the bullet and swipes at the screen. He’s careful to ignore all notifications and opens a new text to Hanzo.

> sent << gone for the night, be back tomorrow

Then he drops his phone and resolutely rolls back over.

A familiar shrill tone screeches into his ear and he automatically reaches for his phone, hand meeting air. He jerks his head up when he can’t find the bedside shelf he stuck to the wall to keep track of his belongings, and the weak morning sunlight falls into his eyes at the wrong angle. Jesse blinks hard and shifts, realizing he’s lying on something shaped a lot more like a couch than his bed.

Nothing much else filters into his bleary brain except the continued noise, so he keeps fumbling around. He finally lands a hand on his phone, resting on the floor near his head. “Hola,” he mumbles.

“Buenos días, mijo,” Gabe says. 

“Mmmm,” Jesse moans, dropping his head back onto his pillow.

“Glad to hear you’re doing well,” Gabe says, voice filled with forced cheeriness. “You want to tell me what has Genji so freaked out? Maybe why he demanded I call and check in on you this morning? This being after he checked the damn bus schedule and saw he couldn’t get there himself last night.”

That sets off a spark somewhere deep in his memory. “What?” Jesse says.

“He says you got real cryptic, like something happened. Then you stopped answering him. Jesse, are you okay?”

Jesse levers himself upright onto one elbow, prying his crusty eyelids open far enough to get a good look around the room. This is not his dorm. It looks like—right. His unwarranted mental breakdown. “One sec,” he mumbles. Jesse rolls off the couch, trying to make as little noise as possible. Two vaguely human-shaped lumps occupy the lofts so he heads into the hall and stumbles into the stairwell.

Jesse sits heavily on the steps with his back to a wall, pulling the phone away from his ear to check the display. He has nine unread messages—all from Genji. It’s also five thirty in the morning. “Gabe,” he growls.

“Answer me,” Gabe growls back.

“I’m fine,” Jesse sighs. “Now. I think.”

“Well that’s reassuring,” Gabe snaps. “Want me to come pick you up for breakfast?”

“No,” Jesse says. He rubs at his eyes with his free hand. “Got an eight am today. Just gotta get back to my room and shower, I’ll be fine.” 

“Where are you?” The concern spikes in Gabe’s voice.

“Lena’s. I just…I had a little meltdown yesterday, because I’m stupid and I’m a terrible friend—“

“What the hell?” Gabe cuts in but Jesse keeps going.

“It’s fine, I’m just—I’m just bein’ an idiot. It’s just my roommate.” Jesse takes a breath but Gabe doesn’t say anything. So Jesse keeps talking, not awake enough to control his brain-to-mouth filter. “It’s like, what if he don’t actually like guys? He brought a girl to the room yesterday, I think it was just for a project. But it might have been more. And I need to be okay with that, I know it. I’m trying to be a friend to him but I can’t stop thinkin’ I’m just doin’ it all because I want somethin’, and that’s a pretty fuckin’ terrible way to—“

“Jesse,” Gabe says. Jesse snaps his mouth shut. “The last thing you’ll ever be is a terrible friend to anyone, even the people that deserve it. Believe me, it was not my favorite thing when you were a kid. That is not what’s happening here. So tell me what actually is, and start at the beginning.”

“Well,” Jesse says, “I made him some tea when he had a bad day. Or more like a bad month, I guess. And three days later, I go out and buy a stupid electric kettle to make him more damn tea ‘cause the cafeteria options fuckin’ suck. And this would make it easier to do all the time, and—“

“Would you have done it for Lena?” Gabe breaks in, cutting into Jesse’s next attempt to string out into self-loathing.

Jesse stops short again and blinks at the wall. “Huh?”

“If Lena’d had a nonstop terrible couple weeks, would you buy her an electric kettle? What about Fareeha? Let’s say she has the month from hell. Would you or would you not whisk her on a tour of every single local rock band playing in the area?”

“Well, uhm. I might, I guess—“

“Genji has a bad night,” Gabe presses on. “Are you on the bus first thing in the morning? Or, more likely, calling me at some godawful hour to come get you? What about when I have a meltdown? I’m sure you recall exhibit a, what, not even two weeks ago. Did you even think about your classes before dropping everything?”

“Okay, that ain’t fair,” Jesse says. 

“I don’t fight fair. Especially when it comes to you,” Gabe says easily. “Am I wrong?”

“Alright, what’s your point?” Jesse sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. He needs coffee. 

“My point is you’re doing all right, kid,” Gabe neatly turns his words back on him. Jesse groans. It’s too early for this. “It’s not weird to be feeling like that, like psychologically. But I’m telling you it’s baseless. You’re being a good friend to him even if you don’t feel like you are. As much as you might want to worry about your motivations, don’t. I’m telling you, you would be doing this for him with or without this crush. As for whether he likes you or not, save that battle for another day. No sense running into a crisis without good intel.”

“Wow,” Jesse says, but he can feel a smile twitching across his lips. “I appreciate the strategy briefin’.”

“You’ll thank me later,” Gabe growls. “Now seriously. Right now, are you okay? I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“I do not want to know how you’re gettin’ here that fast,” Jesse chuckles. “And aside from the part where it’s ass o’clock in the damn mornin’? Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good,” Gabe says. Jesse can almost feel his decisive nod through the phone. “You tell me if that changes, kid. Now answer Genji, would you? He’s still freaking out. Thinks you’re dying or some shit.”

“Right,” Jesse says. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s not me you’ve got to apologize to,” Gabe says and hangs up.

Jesse pulls the phone down from his ear and opens the message log with some trepidation. He scrolls through Genji’s increasingly concerned texts until he hits the last one, a plea to answer him at any time. Jesse tilts his head back to rest against the wall and stairs up at the next flight of stairs for a moment. Then he bites his lip and takes the plunge.

> sent << genji im sorry  
>  sent << i did not mean to freak you out

Genji’s sleep schedule can tend toward the erratic at best, and Jesse cringes at the thought that his stupid stunt might have induced more insomnia for his best friend. He’s hoping not to get a response until later in the day, so he can at least pretend that Genji got a good night’s sleep. But sure enough, his phone chimes.

> carrot-top >> are you ok???
> 
> sent << im better now  
>  sent << it really was stupid, i think i just stressed myself out
> 
> carrot-top >> want to talk about it?  
>  carrot-top >> its ok if you don’t!!!

Jesse huffs a little chuckle. He stands up and stretches, back popping. Then he trudges back to the girls’ room and collects his bag before beginning the trek back to his own dorm. He really would like that shower before class, try to wash the popcorn shrapnel out of his hair at the very least. He can man up about what he might find in his room. He texts a quick thanks to both Lena and Fareeha before switching back to the other thread.

> sent << not right now, but i will. probably in a few days  
>  sent << long story short i freaked out that im a terrible friend and gabe yelled at me  
>  sent << but i was one to you, and im sorry  
>  sent << shouldnt have left you hanging

Genji doesn’t reply right away. Then, instead of the little note that indicates typing in progress popping up, his phone starts ringing. Jesse answers right away. “Hey.”

“I forgive you for the heart attack,” Genji says promptly. Jesse laughs. “And even with such a thing, you are not a terrible friend.”

“So I’ve been told,” Jesse says. “Forcefully.”

“Good,” Genji says. “And you are sure you are okay?”

“Mostly there,” Jesse says, giving into the urge for honesty. “I’m goin’ to take a shower and go to class, see if that helps. Got an ultimate game tonight, that should finish the job. You okay?”

“I am now, yes,” Genji says. “I was worried about you.” Jesse makes a face at himself as he nears his dorm; Genji has always been too good at reading between the lines Jesse puts out. “And I was somewhat concerned I may have been overreacting. Sombra kept poking me all evening to see if I would combust.”

Jesse throws back his head and laughs. “Sounds like we’re in the same boat as usual, partner.”

“Then it is the best boat. Zenyatta told me to give you time,” Genji says, smile diffusing through his voice. 

“We all need to listen to that man more often.” Jesse walks into the dorm lobby and stares at the steps.

“We should. Tell me if you are feeling down again, will you? Even if it comes with a request for a little space. I will leave you be, so long as you are not actually dying.”

“I promise,” Jesse says.

“Very well,” Genji says warmly and disconnects. 

Jesse mounts the stairs and then stands in front of his door for a long time. He almost wishes he’d kept Genji on the line for a little moral support, but he tells himself to grow a spine. There are no sounds coming from inside the room, but it’s only six thirty. Maybe Hanzo is already gone? Or maybe Jesse will catch him sleeping in the morning for once. He just hopes that’s all he’ll catch. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, then pushes open the door. 

One glance proves Jesse’s wild fears are unfounded. The room is empty, and Hanzo’s bed is neatly made like usual. His desk is neat, no sign that anyone else was even there last night. Jesse allows himself one moment to pretend it was some kind of stress nightmare and goes to shower. 

His classes barely keep part of his traitorous brain occupied throughout the day. The constant texts from Gabe and Genji, and even Sombra and Zenyatta on occasion, do a far better job. Deciphering Zenyatta’s cryptic proverbs take a fair amount of focus on a good day, anyway. And the fog from his late night and offensively early morning takes up another good portion of his mind. But the rest cycles through scenario after scenario where Hanzo is happy and honest to goodness smiling; sometimes he has the girl on his arm, sometimes total strangers altogether. But never Jesse. 

And underneath all of it, the nagging voice slithers through all of his thoughts and whispers that no matter what everyone else says, his ulterior motive for offering any overture of friendship to a guy that likely has few friends makes him a pretty terrible person. He just can’t convince himself he’d be going to these lengths if he weren’t half in love with Hanzo, no matter what the others say.

He does his best to keep ignoring it as he finally pushes through the door to his room, fielding the newest text from Gabe. He dumps his bag and checks the clock, deciding the hell with the rest of his homework. He’s throwing in the towel for now until tonight’s ultimate game. Jesse hauls himself into his loft, sending a quick thanks to everyone so they don’t send in the cavalry when he goes AWOL, and is asleep almost before he gets horizontal.

He drifts in fits and starts until the door bangs open and Jesse bolts upright so hard he almost cracks his head on the ceiling. “The hell?” he snaps, rubbing at his eyes.

Hanzo stands frozen in the doorway, looking quite surprised to see him. “My apologies,” he says, closing the door with much less force. “I did not realize you would be sleeping.”

“S’okay,” Jesse says, slumping back down and closing his eyes again. “No worries.” He gets maybe an hour of actual sleep before his alarm goes off and Jesse climbs down from his loft with stiff movements. He goes to dig a game-worthy change of clothes out of his closet as he steals a glance at the other side of the room. 

It’s like déjà vu from Saturday night. Hanzo is hunched under his blanket armor with a dark scowl as he pages through a textbook, almost ripping the sheets as he yanks on them. Jesse frowns. Then he opens his closet door and comes face to bag with his purchases from the night before. The innocent white plastic glistens in the shadows of his closet like a judgmental beacon. 

Jesse bites his lip. 

Then he decides the hell with this too. He pulls out the bag and dumps the contents out across his desk. “Hey,” he says. Hanzo twists around just enough to meet his gaze, brows still stuck in their permanent furrow these days. Jesse gestures weakly at the kettle and tea boxes. “I just wanted to say, uhm. Go ahead and use this stuff if you want. I gotta run, but I don’t mind if you want a cup.”

Hanzo blinks at him, shifting his gaze to evaluate Jesse’s offering. He frowns. “I did not think you enjoyed tea.”

“I, uhm,” Jesse swallows. “I don’t. Not really.”

“Then why did you buy these things?” Hanzo’s voice is bordering on suspicious and Jesse’s heart sinks. He grasps wildly for excuses.

“I just thought we could use some options? And I’ve been thinkin’ about tryin’ like, ways of makin’ coffee here instead of drinkin’ the cafeteria crap. When I’m not goin’ out.”

“That is not a coffee maker,” Hanzo points out, quite reasonably. “And if you were thinking of other methods, you seem to be lacking the required equipment.”

“Yeah,” Jesse huffs, hunching his shoulders as he rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll get that. At some point. I just grabbed this when Lena dragged me out last night. Didn’t have time to get the rest yet.”

Hanzo fixedly keeps his gaze and raises one slow eyebrow. Jesse ducks into the bathroom to change. And to avoid that look.

He re-enters the room in his game gear and meets the same stare; if anything, the disbelieving judgmental factor has increased. “Well, Lena comes over a lot too,” Jesse tries one last desperate save. “She likes tea.”

“Does she?” Hanzo says, one corner of his mouth giving the smallest twitch. “I have only ever seen her drink over-sugared monstrosities that are intended to represent coffee in the shop.”

“Yeah,” Jesse says with the ghost of a laugh. “I think she likes makin’ her own tea. Gotta be her way, you know?”

“Ah,” Hanzo says. He folds an arm across the back of his chair and relaxes to rest against it. “Thank you,” he says before Jesse can start spewing any more flimsy excuses. “I appreciate the offer. I may very well make use of your supplies, but I will replace what I use.”

Jesse shrugs, hoping beyond hope the traitorous warm spark he feels building in his chest isn’t showing in the heat he feels rising in his face. He turns away and waves a hand over his shoulder, trying to make it look as casual as possible. “Don’t worry about it,” he says as he pulls on his shoes and makes a beeline for the door. “Glad to help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> El just about had an anxiety meltdown trying to write this chapter and Nari almost killed her. Which would have been well within her rights. You guys were almost down an author on this monster.
> 
> guestis: It does end up being easier with two of us, mainly because El has to keep editing Nari's responses and taking out important plot spoilers and future details. Also Nari sometimes searches for stories by comment count and likes to see numbers. But mostly, we both cut our teeth in fandom during the glory days of FF.net and yahoo groups before ao3 even existed. Back in our day this was the only way to reply, and looks like old habits die hard. 
> 
> OfficialVulpesInculta: The big Shimada reunion is completely and totally planned out already; it was actually one of the first things we had figured out. We know exactly when and how it is going down. But for the rest of you, it's a secret for now. =)
> 
> Kim: Ana is super nosey. She wants to know everything about everyone and will ask all the questions she can to get there. Also, you will get to meet Jesse’s abuela. She’s coming around, we promise. She’s our favorite OC, we love her. Anyone who raises Gabriel Reyes as a single parent must be awesome, it's like some sort of law. She will have a much bigger role in the prequel that may or may not be in the works.


	19. axe murderers and grim reapers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do we need to warn for underage drinking? Is that a thing?

Jack flips through the classified section of the good old fashioned newspaper as he tries to get comfortable in the stiff, lumpy armchair in the corner of the waiting room. The room itself is painted a shade of beige that’s supposed to be soothing but comes across as bland as the secretary’s smile, the dull landscapes dotting the walls doing little to add interest. Jack just hopes the child psychologist herself is more interesting and actually helpful, for Hana’s sake. If they’re going to be spending every Saturday morning here for the foreseeable future, it better do her some good.

He rustles the pages with a little smile, Hana’s fond mockery ringing in his ears. She’d gotten a lot of mileage out of him being an old man that still buys newspapers when he’d picked it up from the gas station, but Jack is getting desperate. He’s sure there’s a way to search for private rental suites on the internet, but damned if he knows how to go about doing it.

Jack is certain he’s toured every apartment complex in the school district, and every single one is a hard no. They’re all either too expensive, the size of a matchbox—Jack has no idea how some tried to cram two bedrooms into the square footage of his apartment now—or downright shady. He is absolutely not letting Hana grow up in a place where he wouldn’t feel comfortable responding to a call without police backup. 

So he’s down to private listings in the classifieds. It really makes him feel great about his capabilities as a guardian. Maybe he can somehow convince CPS it’s fine if he just lives on the couch for the rest of his life? Sure, that’ll go over well with what’s-her-name—

“Mr. Morrison?” Speak of the devil. Jack looks up from the last page and meets the eyes of Hana’s CPS case worker, standing right in front of him with the same unimpressed stare he remembers oh so well from the home visit. 

“Yeah, hi. Miss, uh…” Jack stands and reaches out to shake her hand, realizing at the last minute he actually doesn’t know her name.

“Everett,” she says, giving his hand one perfunctory pump before dropping it. “Tiffany Everett.”

“Right, Ms. Everett,” Jack repeats, stomach sinking yet again. How the hell does this one civilian make him feel more inadequate than any drill sergeant or commanding officer he’s ever met? “How are you today?”

“Fine,” she says as she sits on the couch and makes herself comfortable. Great. “I’m just here to make sure Hana got to her first appointment. And to check in with how things are going.”

“Oh,” Jack says, sitting down a little awkwardly. “Well, we’re here. And things are good. So…yeah.” Everett raises one prim eyebrow. Jack tries to clamp down on the instinct to squirm under the hard gaze. “She’s, uh, settling in okay at school. Making friends, you know. I think she likes it. The programming class, at least.” 

Everett makes a noise that’s somehow neither disapproval nor encouragement as she crosses her legs. “And how about the living situation?”

Jack bites his lip. “Oh, uhm. We’re still working on that.” He gestures at the newspaper, resting in a crinkled heap on the coffee table. “We’ve got a few more places to see today but, uhm. I’m trying to keep us in the school district. Since, you know, she likes it.”

“Yes, you said that,” Everett says. “You do know California has school of choice, right?” Jack blinks at her. School of what now? Thankfully she moves right along without waiting for a response. “But it is easier if you can stay in district.”

“Right, uhm,” Jack says, nodding like he has any idea what she’s talking about. “That’s what I was thinking.”

He’s saved from further embarrassing himself when the door creaks open and Hana steps out into the waiting room. Jack can see her falter as she notices he’s not alone. Then she straightens her posture and pastes on a bland smile, marching right up to the couch. “Hey, Jack.”

Jack suppresses a sigh. “Hana, you remember Ms. Everett, right?”

“Sure,” she says, expression not wavering. “Hi.”

“Hi, Hana,” Everett says. She makes a noticeable effort to sound warmer. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Things are fine,” Hana says airily before directing her attention back to Jack. “Don’t we have apartments to look at?”

“Yeah, a few,” Jack says, frowning at her a little. “But we’ve got a few minutes, if Ms. Everett has some questions.”

Everett gives them an insipid smile. “No, it’s fine. I’ll just catch up with Hana later. I wouldn’t want you to be late for your showings.”

Jack tries to turn his grimace into something approaching a polite nod and stands. “Then we’ll be on our way.” He shakes Everett’s hand again and follows Hana out of the office.

“Everything okay?” Jack asks as Hana throws herself into the car’s passenger seat. He doesn’t start the car, getting the feeling this conversation will require more than split attention between it and LA traffic. 

“I can’t stand that woman,” Hana scowls. “Really. She doesn’t actually care how I am, she’s just looking for a reason to pull me away from you. All because you got held over late once. It’s not like you work a nine to five in an office. Emergencies don’t happen on a schedule, right? And it’s not like I was even left alone.” Hana sighs and sinks back into her seat. “Seriously. I am not buying the ‘looking out for me’ lines.”

“Have you seen her since the home visit?” Jack asks, a little thrown by her vehemence.

Hana shrugs. “She came by school last week.”

“Did she say something out of line to you?”

“Not really,” Hana concedes, pulling her legs up onto the seat and hugging her knees. “Just asked a bunch of questions about living with you. Gave me the impression that she thought I would do better elsewhere.” Hana drops her chin on her knees, expression turning wistful. “I liked Samantha. I wish we could have kept her.”

“Me too,” Jack mutters under his breath before raising his volume. “We’re following all the rules, though. They can’t take you if we keep doing that. Just let me know if she comes by again.”

“All right.” Hana gives Jack a small smile as she straightens up in her seat.

Jack pauses with his hand on the key, still hesitating to turn it. “How was the psychologist?” 

“She was fine,” Hana shrugs, tone much more relaxed than her apparent feelings about her CPS agent had warranted. “We put together part of puzzle. Talked about eomma and appa.”

“Okay,” Jack says, coming up empty on any meaningful follow up questions. “Sounds good.”

“Yup. Now, don’t we actually have apartments to see?”

“Yeah.” Jack starts the car and pulls out onto the crammed street. “Dinner with Reinhardt after, if you’re up for it.”

“Always,” Hana grins. “Then let’s get started.”

A quick lunch and three rental suite tours later, Hana is dragging her feet. Jack’s right there with her. He was hoping to have better luck with private suites than he’d had with big complexes, but it’s looking like a lost cause. One is in a house that looks like a stiff breeze could blow it over, much less an earthquake. Another has more mold growing in it than should be legal; in fact, Jack’s pretty sure it’s condemnable. And the less said about the owner of the third, the better. He is absolutely not leaving Hana anywhere near that man.

“How many more do we have to see?” Hana whines as she collapses into the passenger seat.

“Just one more today,” Jack says, eyes fixed on the last owner in the rearview as he guns the engine and gets them out of there. 

Hana heaves a relieved sigh. “Oh, good. This really sucks. Can you just leave me at home next time?”

“Nope. You have to live there too, so you get to come along.”

“Ugh. I’d much rather be home gaming.”

“Suck it up,” Jack laughs, relieved to be turning out of that subdivision. “You’re not spending all weekend playing games.”

“Well, obviously not this weekend,” Hana says dismissively. “But I will be next weekend. My friend is hosting a party.”

“A party, huh?” Jack blinks, glancing at her sidelong. “What’s her name, the girl from school?”

“Wow, Jack,” Hana says, giving him a stare both earnest and concerned. “How old are you? Do I need to start looking into those memory care nurses for you? I guess it really is the first thing to go.” Jack takes a playful swipe at her and Hana laughs it off. “No, not Efi. Just this guy I game with. And it’s an online party, no strangers’ houses for you to worry about—“ Hana stops, straightening up in her seat. Her eyes light up and Jack feels a little dread settle in his stomach. “Actually, he lives in LA. I totally could go play with him!”

“Back up,” Jack says, trying to get a grip on a conversation rapidly spiraling into parts unknown and full of horror stories. “What do you mean ‘this guy you game with’? How did you meet him?”

“Online,” Hana says, exaggerating each syllable. “Is your hearing going too? We play a lot of the same stuff, I’ve been gaming with him for years. His name’s Lúcio, he’s super cool.”

“Online,” Jack repeats dumbly. “So what, you haven’t actually met him? How do you know he’s cool?”

“Sheesh, relax,” Hana flaps a hand and Jack grips the steering wheel a little tighter. “He’s just a fifteen year old kid who likes the same games I do. He doesn’t sound like some creepy old man over voice chat, anyway.”

“Voice chat?” Jack all but squeaks. “The hell is that? You talk to strangers on the internet?”

“Oh my God, Jack, it’s fine,” Hana says, giving him an incredulous stare that makes him feel like he’s the unreasonable one here. He can’t say he appreciates it. “We were planning to meet up at BlizzCon this year, since we were both going. But he lives in LA, and now I’m here too. We totally don’t need to wait!” 

“Are you out of your mind?” Jack snaps, taking the last turn to their final showing a little too quickly. 

“Jack,” Hana moans, face in her hands. “Don’t you dare be weird about this. I’ve known him for years. Mom was cool with it, okay?”

Jack bites his lip, derailed from his righteous outrage. He’s never been so glad to pull into a driveway in his life. “We’ll talk about this later, okay?”

Hana huffs and folds her arms but doesn’t argue. 

The last rental suite is on the very edge of Hana’s school district, and Jack had almost written it off even before they drove all the way out here. But beggars can’t be choosers, so he leads Hana into the basement apartment to meet the owners. It’s in the wrong direction for work and will probably add a good twenty minutes to his drive, not to mention the added distance to drop Hana off at school. This will make midnight shifts a nightmare. But it’s in district and is something he can actually afford, so here they are.

Jack’s glad they came. Basement apartments might not be his thing, but this is their best option yet. The house itself is newer, so the ceilings are high enough that he doesn’t need to walk bent in half to avoid cracking open his head. The finishes are nice and the house is pretty well-kept. The place isn’t huge, by any stretch. But it feels like it could actually hold two people and the occasional Reinhardt without breaking holes in the drywall.

Jack shakes hands with the couple that owns the house, pleased with their pleasant demeanors and relative non-creepiness. He hadn’t even realized that needed to be a requirement before today, but he’s glad they meet it.

The biggest downside, outside of the location, is that the place won’t free up until mid-November at the earliest. But Jack doesn’t mind, he can survive on the couch a little longer. It will meet CPS’s deadline and is refreshingly feasible, so Jack leaves his contact information and fills out all of their paperwork before they go.

“So,” Hana says, sounding mildly surprised as they pull up to Reinhardt’s. “The last place didn’t suck.” 

Jack laughs, following her up to the front door. “Yeah. Best thing so far.”

“Seriously, though.” Hana sticks out her tongue. “Is every single adult thing awful? Money, bleh. Housing, double bleh. Just…ugh.”

“Hasn’t anyone told you yet?” Jack grins at her. “Don’t grow up, it’s a trap.”

Hana laughs. “Sure, Jack. I’ll get right on that.” They’re still chuckling when Reinhardt throws open the door.

“Greetings, my friends,” he booms, spreading his arms wide. “Come in, come in!”

“Hal-abeoji!” Hana hops into Reinhardt’s arms to claim a hug. She gives a dramatic sigh and feigns a swoon for extra sympathy. “Apartment hunting is the worst.”

Reinhardt laughs as he leads them into the kitchen. “That it is, beinchen, that it is. Why do you think I bought this house? No more looking for new apartments.” Reinhardt grins, handing Jack a cold beer and Hana a soda without asking. “So today did not go well?”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Jack replies, perching on an island barstool to watch Reinhardt cook. He bites his lip as Reinhardt expertly mixes some kind of batter. Jack really needs to think about upping his own culinary skills—or rather, developing them in the first place.

Reinhardt grins at them over his shoulder as Hana claims the next stool. “If that wasn’t so bad, I don’t want to know what else you have seen before today.”

“Well,” Jack draws out the word. “It was less the apartments and more the company, this time around. Hana doesn’t question every single decision I make, unlike some people I could mention.” Jack clinks his bottle with Hana’s as she laughs and then takes a sip—only to almost choke on it when someone whacks the back of his head.

“Really, Jack,” Ana drawls from right behind him. “Not that I doubt Hana is better company, of course. But I think it is less that I question your every decision and more that I save you from yourself at every turn.” 

“Ana,” he coughs as she moves past them to help Reinhardt finish with dinner. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I told her to come by,” Reinhardt says as he bends in half to check something in the oven. “She has not yet met Hana, after all.”

“Jack always neglects me,” Ana says sadly to Hana. 

“I do not,” Jack sputters but Ana ignores him.

“And after I gave him such a glowing review for CPS, too,” Ana rolls right along, shaking her head as if it’s the worst tragedy imaginable. Hana giggles and mirrors her, clearly put at ease by how Ana dances around Reinhardt as she sets a pot of water to boil as if she’s been there all day.

“Unbelievable,” Hana says and Ana gives her a conspiring smile. Jack’s heart sinks; he can already see this relationship going very badly for him in the future.

“Ana, this is Hana,” he sighs, deciding to just get it over with and accept his oncoming misery. “Hana, this is the apartment cleaning fairy, Ana.”

“It won’t happen again,” Ana says to him as she moves past him to approach Hana. “Hello, dear,” she says and they share a hug like they’re old friends. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Hana says with a bright smile as Ana moves back to Reinhardt’s side at the stove. 

Jack and Hana watch them work together to pour the batter through some contraption into the boiling water, moving around each other with practiced ease. Jack starts to think maybe he should go to Reinhardt for the cooking lessons after all; he apparently can cook with someone else in his space without issue, and Jack knows he’s a pretty good teacher. Jack makes a mental note to ask later as he nudges Hana off her stool to help him set the table. This, at least, is a task they can both do without setting off any smoke detectors.

Dinner is a loud and boisterous affair, both Reinhardt and Ana trying to one up each other’s embarrassing stories for Hana’s entertainment. Jack’s heard most of them before, and had been present for quite a few others, but even he finds it hard to stop laughing long enough to eat. But eventually the four of them demolish the roulade, spaetzle, and vegetables with plenty of gusto.

Ana pushes her plate away and stretches in her seat. “I need to be going,” she says as she stands. “Unfortunately, I work in the morning. Early.”

Hana pulls a face. “Ew.”

“I know, but someone must do it,” Ana says, coming around the table. Hana hops up for a goodbye hug. “But it was very good to meet you. Keep Jack in line for me, will you?”

Hana grins. “I’ll do my best.”

Ana tugs on Jack’s sleeve, so he walks her to the door while Hana stays behind to help Reinhardt with the dishes. “She’s a wonderful girl, Jack,” Ana says as they lean against the front porch railing. “You will let me know when you need anything, yes?”

“Sure,” Jack says, folding his arms to hide the embarrassed hunch to his shoulders. “Thanks. Go get some sleep, will you? I’m pretty sure they want you alert to deliver babies.”

“The screaming generally keeps one awake,” Ana says with a wave before stepping down into the night. Jack shudders and goes back inside, joining the other two in the kitchen. He’s never had to help deliver a baby in the field, and he never wants to. He has no idea how Ana does it all day.

“So,” Jack says once Reinhardt shuts the faucet off and the dishes seem to be mostly done. “You said you have a favor to ask in exchange for dinner?”

“Yes, I do,” Reinhardt replies, wiping his hands on a towel before tossing it to Hana. “I have need of advice on paint colors for upstairs, if you have some time.”

“Sure,” Hana chirps. “We’ve got time. Right, Jack?”

Jack nods, amused and yet a touch concerned at Hana’s enthusiasm. He knows she’s still latching on to any and all distractions she comes across, but he still doesn’t think paint colors deserve that big a response. Part of why he’s glad she seems receptive to the psychologist. So far, at least.

Reinhardt leads them up to the rental suite, by way of the newly added outdoor staircase and the apartment’s new private entrance. Jack takes in the renovation progress, impressed with the work Reinhardt has completed. The kitchen backsplash is half done, stretching up over the finished countertop that’s nested around a nice sink. The floor might not be down but there are actual walls, the drywall taped and mudded and primed for paint. He steps to the side and sticks his head in the bathroom, seeing a completed shower standing over a nicely laid floor. The vanity is the only thing missing. 

Jack turns back to the main room. “Wow. I didn’t expect this much progress.”

“Deadlines,” Reinhardt says with a shrug. “Don’t you know, they make it so very hard to get the writing itself done. Means I make good progress here though.”

“Sure,” Jack says as he claps the big man on the shoulder. He’s never known Reinhardt to ever miss a deadline, no matter how much he complains about them. Not even that very first textbook, the one he swears turned him off of writing non-fiction forever, despite the fact it stabilized his career and set him up for life. 

“So what are you painting?” Hana pipes in, steering them back to the goal.

“Ah, yes.” Reinhardt deposits a ream of paint samples in her outstretched hands, then points to a few spots on the walls where individual samples have been cut out and taped up. “I am thinking I will do grey in this main area,” he says, gesturing to the open living, dining, and breakfast nook. “What do you think?”

Jack laughs as Hana pulls a spectacular face. “Are you kidding me?” she moans.

“I know, I know,” Reinhardt says, waving his hands in a soothing motion. “But think of it as something to sell. Grey is a neutral color, and would make it very easy for a possible renter to look at and picture their own things in the room. Let them move here in their mind’s eye, as the experts would say.”

Hana doesn’t look convinced but she nods. “Okay. I guess that makes sense.” She squints at one of the samples. “If you have to do grey, that one’s not bad.”

Reinhardt lays a hand on his broad chest, as if relieved she approves of his choice. “Excellent. Then in the main bedroom here,” he says, leading her to a room housed in the biggest turret and beckoning Jack to follow, “perhaps the same, but darker?” 

Hana consults her color samples and Jack just follows along at their heels. He’s really not sure why they need him for this, he has no opinion. If it were up to him, he’d paint the whole place one color and be done with it. But no one, especially Ana or Reinhardt, has ever accused him of having a sense of decorating taste.

Jack takes a look around the room as Hana and Reinhardt hold a few samples to the rough walls. The drywall still needs to be mudded and sanded in here, giving the room a cobbled together feel at the moment. The turret forces the room to be octagonal in shape with angled ceilings, and it’s certainly…different. But Jack likes it. Reinhardt did well with what he had to work with.

The smaller bedroom is even stranger, walls at all angles around nooks and crannies with sharply sweeping ceilings that meet in the middle. The drywall in here is finished, standing ready to be painted. Reinhardt gestures around the room proudly. “Now in here, we can have a little fun. I would think this is a good room for children, yes?”

“This room is amazing,” Hana nods, immediately sticking her head into all the corners to explore. “It’s so weird!” She turns on her heel and gives him a decisive nod. “Definitely for a kid. So nothing dark or boring, got it?”

“Got it,” Reinhardt repeats, spreading out their samples. Jack leans against the doorway and folds his arms, just watching them. “I don’t know what would be best, that is why I asked you. What color would you paint it?”

Hana bites her lip, looking between the colors and the whimsically spaced walls. “Green or purple,” she finally says. “Although you probably should do one any kid might like, so I guess green? How about this one?” She stabs a finger at a bright, cheerful green. Reinhardt pulls the sample out of the ream, holding it up to the wall.

“Ah,” he says. “I like it. But we must wait and see it in the morning light, too. Jack?”

Jack startles, taking a second to realize his opinion is required. He blinks and looks at the sample they selected. “”Looks good to me.”

“Wow, thanks,” Hana says as she rolls her eyes and Reinhardt laughs. “I think it’s great,” she goes on, giving one particular wall a considering look. “But it would look even better with something fun on this wall. Like pink polka dots or something, that would be so cool.” Jack and Reinhardt follow her gaze, the wall in question being closer to the center of the house and thus the tallest one in the room. But then Hana seems to remember the constraint of appealing to an anonymous renter. “But that’s probably too personal, I guess. People would think that’s girly or something, huh?”

Reinhardt shrugs. “Perhaps, but that would be their failing. I think a feature here is a good idea.”

Hana regains a satisfied little grin. “The green is good either way.”

“Then that is decided,” Reinhardt nods. “Come, there is only one more room.” He leads Hana back across the main room toward the bathroom but Jack loiters halfway across. The two of them in that small space is already pushing it, and he doesn’t really have anything to offer. Especially since Hana seems to be taking to her new role of interior decorator with gusto. Is this something she likes doing that he didn’t know about? Or is this really just another thing she’s focusing on to keep herself from thinking about what happened to her parents?

Jack leans against the newly finished kitchen island, frowning to himself. Maybe he should have a word with her psychologist himself, see what she thinks. For all he knows, this is just part of the adjustment process and she’ll even out with some time. But she sure seems to be jumping from one thing to the next with alarming speed. 

It almost makes him regret getting her a full time distraction in the form of that game console. But at least he knows it was something she’d been invested in before, and her parents approved. Although he can’t shake the ill feeling that stirs up his gut when he thinks about her playing with random strangers on the internet. And now she wants to meet one of them? What if he turns out to be some kind of axe murderer? 

There’s a little voice of reason in the back of his head that tells him he’s probably overreacting. This seems to be what the kids do these days, and maybe he’s just behind the times. But the rest of his brain is just screeching ‘axe murderer’ over and over at full volume. Jack scowls. This is what he gets for following unverified intel. Some help that blogger turned out to be.

One thing’s for sure, Hana is absolutely not meeting this shady Lúcio character alone for the first time. If she originally planned to meet him in the company of her mother, she’s getting a chaperone whether she likes it or not. End of story.

Jack’s abruptly yanked back to reality when a hand waves in front of his face, dispelling visions of grisly murders as Hana calls his name. “Jack! Earth to Jack, hello.”

Jack swats the offending hand away. “What?” he growls.

“Did you hear me?” Hana bounces on her toes. “Can we come back tomorrow and help paint?” 

Jack runs through his mental to-do list quickly, but nothing jumps out as terribly important. And coming back here involves zero suspicious internet strangers. “Sure. We can do that.”

“Thank you,” Reinhardt says as he tosses the paint samples onto the counter with a smile. “It will go much quicker with three. Come by early and I will make breakfast.”

“You got it,” Jack nods to him as he ushers Hana towards the door. “As early as I can pry this one out of bed, that is.”

“May I suggest using a crow bar?” Reinhardt asks sweetly and Jack laughs outright. Hana huffs and flounces down the stairs, but she’s not bothering to hide her smile.

\--

The sun is just cresting the horizon as Gabe sinks into his office chair, first mug of coffee for the day clutched tightly in one hand. It’s the perfect time to check his email, make sure nothing exploded at work over night. He’s not on call for emergencies this weekend, but the fewer surprises he walks in to tomorrow morning the better.

Besides, Sombra is still dead asleep with Reaper sprawled across her chest last he checked on his way downstairs. And Genji and Zenyatta aren’t due for brunch for a few hours. He’s got some time.

Gabe yanks his laptop out of the newly installed charging cabinet. Zenyatta’d been instrumental in crafting four total to foil Reaper in several rooms: his office, the living room, and both his and Sombra’s bedrooms. Gabe had thought it was overkill when his friend had hauled the four mismatched cabinets up the driveway, but he has to admit they’ve come in handy. They’ve probably saved the damn cat’s life already. 

The laptop whirrs to life as Gabe takes a deep sip. No work meltdowns yet, excellent. He has a few emails from some of his kids and a couple updates from one of his child advocates, but nothing major. He leaves the child advocate’s email for Monday but takes the time to reply to the kids. He likes to keep in touch with them on the regular.

That complete, Gabe clicks over to his blog. He idly thinks about a new post topic, but gets distracted when he notices the new message icon staring at him.

> From: soldier76@gmail.com  
>  To: elsegador@flordelamuerte.com  
>  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Advice needed
> 
> So here’s the deal. I let my kid have her video games, as advised. But it turns out there’s a whole other side to these things I didn’t anticipate. Nobody, including you, warned me that strangers can just randomly talk to her in these damn things. So she has this internet “friend” that she’s played with but has never actually met. And now that they live in the same city, she want to hang out with him in person. What if this guy is some psycho serial killer? How the hell do I handle this? I shouldn’t have let her have these stupid things in the first place, thanks a lot.

Gabe gapes at the email, cup hovering halfway to his mouth. What the hell? He slams the cup down on the desk and yanks the laptop closer, good mood evaporating. Who does this idiot think he is? 

> From: elsegador@flordelamuerte.com  
>  To: soldier76@gmail.com  
>  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Advice needed
> 
> Vete a la chingada, pendejo. This is not my fucking fault. Just because she meets someone in a video game does not automatically mean creepy internet stalker. Besides, it sounds like your kid was already talking to this guy before she came to you. Much less before you even got me involved in all this shit. You want to blame someone else, fine. But don’t blame me.
> 
> And what, are you just going to let her wander over there all by herself? If you are, you really are a fucking idiot and someone royally screwed up when they let you have a kid. Seriously, be the damn adult here. Check the dude out and go with her. This isn’t rocket science. Use some fucking common sense.
> 
> Not everyone on the internet is a serial killer. Just be smart about it, idiota.

Gabe glares at his computer and jabs the key to send it off. Seriously, this guy. Whatever. Not his problem. Gabe slams the laptop closed and puts it back in its new home to keep it safe from Reaper’s teeth. He stalks into the kitchen and yanks open the fridge, glaring that the contents. He glances back at the clock and starts pulling out ingredients. He should have time to make a batch of cinnamon rolls for brunch. He wasn’t planning on it, but what the hell. Genji and Zenyatta both have a sweet tooth; they’ll appreciate it. 

\--

Sombra drifts closer to wakefulness, luxuriating in her warm nest of blankets with warm purring cat curled up with her and taking full advantage of a lazy morning. The peace is shattered in the next second by a series of loud bangs from the kitchen. She snaps fully awake and lays still, trying to decide if that was good banging or bad banging. Gabe’s been in a better mood ever since that asshole father got thrown in jail, but he hasn’t quite made it back to equilibrium. She just hopes there are no relapses on the table. She’s not sure she can handle something like that again, at least so soon.

Oh well. There’s no way to tell unless she braves the kitchen. Sombra gently displaces Reaper from his sprawl across her face. He’s clearly disgruntled, fur stuck standing up straight on one side of his face. He jumps off the bed and stalks out of the room. Sombra takes a minute to throw on clothes for the day before heading downstairs.

She peeks around the wall at the bottom of the stairs to scope out the kitchen. There’s something rising under a towel on the counter, but otherwise everything looks normal. Gabe stands at the island mixing something with a mug of coffee beside him, humming along to the radio. Peacekeeper is stretched out in a sun spot by the back door, staring forlornly at Gabe. Sombra takes all of this as a good sign and decides that it should be safe to enter.

“Buenos días, Gabe,” she says, skirting the island to get to the French press sitting on the far counter.

“One,” Gabe says, pointing at the mug she pours for herself with his wooden spoon.

“Sure,” Sombra says and takes a sip of Gabe's special-occasions-only hand ground French press masterpiece of black coffee. She doesn’t know what the occasion is, but she’s not complaining. And like hell she’s stopping at one.

She drops onto an island stool with her mug cradled reverently in her hands to watch Gabe cook. As far as she knows, it’s just Genji and Zenyatta coming this morning. But it looks more like Gabe is cooking for an army. Then again, this seems to be par for the course when he makes brunch; Jesse would usually eat about half of it on his own. Sombra would lay odds they’ll have piles of leftovers this time, unless Gabe plans to mail it to UCLA in lieu of his semi-regular baked goods package. 

The scents of cinnamon and warm bread fill the air and mix with the aroma of her fresh coffee. Sombra takes a deep, soul-satisfying breath through her nose to savor it. She’s finishing her first cup and contemplating how blatant she feels like making her second pour when Peacekeeper perks up, scrambling to assemble his marionette limbs underneath him. He rushes the back door as Zenyatta opens it, the picture of serenity as he drags his charge along in his wake. 

Sombra shakes her head at Genji’s dramatic rendition of grumbling and Zenyatta firmly places him in a chair at the table. Peacekeeper jumps up against him and Genji cups his head in both hands, giving him an exaggerated mournful face. Peacekeeper responds with judicious application of tongue and Genji laughs. He tries to recover his disgruntled expression, only partially succeeding as Peacekeeper climbs half into his lap. 

Zenyatta pats him on the shoulder as he heads over to the teapot standing ready and steaming next to the French press. “Doors exist, Genji,” he says as he pours out two mugs. “Generally, people appreciate it if you make use of them.”

“Well, yes.” Genji finally convinces the dog to return to the floor. Peacekeeper curls back up in his sun spot and gazes up at them fondly. “But the window is much more fun. Thank you,” he says as he accepts the second mug of tea.

Zenyatta chuckles as he takes the next seat. “I suppose I cannot argue with that.”

Sombra gets up just as the bacon reaches the mouthwatering phase and starts pulling out plates and silverware. She uses the activity as a cover to refill her mug from the French press. Gabe pulls a batch of cinnamon rolls out of the oven and levels a glare at her. She smiles innocently.

“Forget how to count?” Gabe growls.

“In English? Si,” Sombra balances her topped off mug on the stack of plates and saunters to the table. “Which number is one again?” Genji rescues her coffee and sets it down at her place as she distributes the plates. Gabe rolls his eyes and drops the pan of cinnamon rolls and the last platter onto the table to complete the feast already laid out.

Genji lets out an actual squeal and lunges for the pan. Zenyatta calmly swipes it out of his reach. “Thank you for brunch, Gabe,” he says as he fends off Genji’s attempts to grab it back with ease. Sombra raises her mug in front of her face to hide her grin.

“No problem,” Gabe says as he dishes potatoes and eggs onto his own plate before accepting the hostage cinnamon rolls from Zenyatta. “Payment for the help today.”

“Gabe!” Genji whines and lunges for the pan again, just missing it as Gabe hands it back to Zenyatta. 

Zenyatta takes two and points a stern if sticky finger at Genji. “Real food first. Man, and you in particular, cannot live on sugar alone.”

Genji pouts and grabs a few pancakes from the stack. “But there are plenty of nutrients in those rolls,” he grumbles. “They have eggs and milk and everything.”

“Don’t care. Doesn’t count,” Gabe says with a grin, pointedly handing the pan to Sombra as soon as she’s finished loading bacon alongside her eggs. Genji sticks out his tongue as Zenyatta pushes the egg platter his way.

“Protein as well,” Zenyatta says before picking apart his own cinnamon rolls.

“This must be against the Geneva convention,” Genji says as he complies with a put upon sigh. “But very well.” He manages to maintain the act through his first few bites before he perks up. “By the way, I have decided where we are going for dinner on Friday.”

Sombra raises an eyebrow. “Where are you dragging us this year?”

“Red Medicine.” Genji grins around his forkful of eggs. “It is Vietnamese. They do modern takes on the dishes.”

Zenyatta hums, looking contemplative. “I do not believe that we’ve had something like that yet.”

“Nope. I thought we should try something new.”

“Yeah, because we always get the same old thing for your birthday,” Gabe deadpans. Genji shoves the last of his eggs into his mouth and gives them puppy dog eyes so Gabe slides the cinnamon rolls back within his reach. Genji snatches one, lightning quick.

“I like trying new things,” he says and takes a gigantic bite of his hard-won prize. “And this is the one day of the year none of you can complain about it.”

“Oh, we’ll complain,” Sombra cuts in. “You getting a year older isn’t going to stop me and Jesse if this turns out to be horrible.” She’d been new to the household for Genji’s birthday dinner last year, an off the wall but respectable fusion place. But Jesse has regaled her with stories of some of Genji’s early choices, which tended to result in a call out for pizza immediately upon getting home. 

Genji must have developed an ability to pick out good restaurants over the years. Or at least the presence of mind to scope them out ahead of time. Seriously, a little internet research has never killed anyone.

“It will be fine,” Genji says, turning his dismissive wrist flick into a grab for his second roll. He gives Zenyatta a hopeful look as he bites into it. “Were you able to get the day off?”

“Of course,” Zenyatta says with one of his rare full smiles. “I will be there. I would not miss this, Genji.” Genji beams. “I will make the reservations tomorrow. Will six o’clock be early enough to get you to your show?”

Genji nods around the remaining half of cinnamon roll he shoves into his mouth, cheeks scrunched up like a chipmunk.

“Then I’ll pick Jesse up right after his lab,” Gabe says, leaning back with his coffee in hand. “Should be plenty of time to get to wherever this place is.”

“Hey, do you want to come out with us after?” Sombra is too busy contemplating the emptiness of her coffee mug to realize Genji is addressing her until he pokes her. 

"¿Qué?" Sombra asks, reluctantly letting Zenyatta tug the mug out of her hands as Gabe starts picking up leftovers.

Genji grins at her. “I am meeting Carlos and Bella to go to a show after our dinner. You are more than welcome. It is EDM. And the opening act is someone local for once. It should be fun.”

“You just want me to save Carlos from being a third wheel,” Sombra says as she stacks up dirty plates.

“No,” Genji says, going for innocent but missing by a mile. “Although I am sure he would appreciate it.” He tries to snag a third cinnamon roll as he gathers silverware. Gabe slaps his hand away and transports the pan to safety.

“Maybe,” Sombra shrugs, watching Zenyatta balance their cups in two stacks in his outstretched hands. It could be fun, but why let Genji know that she agrees with him so readily?

The front door bangs open before he can needle her, startling Peacekeeper out of his doze. He actually gets out a few good barks as he books it into the living room. Amélie breezes right past him, her face thunderous. Peacekeeper trips over himself trying to turn and run after her. Genji dumps his handfuls of dirty utensils into the sink and tackles the dog, pinning him to the floor. He laughs as he gets a face full of dog slobber for his efforts.

Sombra adds her pile of plates to the sink and hops out of the way as Amélie stalks into the kitchen on a direct course for the wine rack. She pulls down a bottle of merlot and yanks a wine opener out of the nearest drawer with practiced motions. 

“I,” she says, pointing the opener at them like it’s a knife, “am not here.”

Gabe nods, giving her a critical once over as he spoons leftovers into a container. “Sure. Work or personal?” He lifts the platter in a clear offer but Amélie shakes her head and takes a drink straight from the bottle. “Personal then, got it,” Gabe chuckles, handing her a wine glass.

“Oui,” she says. “And no, we are not talking about it.”

Gabe shrugs and goes to help Genji herd Peacekeeper outside. Amélie returns Zenyatta’s nod in greeting as he comes to help Sombra load the dishwasher. Sombra frowns as she tries to slot the dishes in the optimal arrangement that will require the fewest to be done by hand, spine tingling with the need to know. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, resisting the urge to sneak away for a few private moments of research. Besides, she reminds herself with a slow smile, she has bigger fish to fry today.

And maybe she can weasel the story out of Amélie directly later on.

She loads the last plate and starts the dishwasher as Zenyatta heads outside to help Gabe and Genji start pulling tools, supplies, and Halloween decorations out of the garage. Sombra washes the few items that didn’t fit, startling a little when Amélie appears at her shoulder to wordlessly dry them. Amélie then picks her glass back up, snags the neck of the wine bottle between her slim fingers, and glides out to the front porch. Sombra watches her go as she dries her hands. She doesn’t quite understand the older woman; she can’t help but like her nonetheless. 

Sombra doesn’t quite understand that either. She’s not usually in the business of letting people too close without knowing at least a handful of secrets about them. She tries not to think about it too closely, much less how comfortable she feels in this house after barely a year. It tends to make her antsy. She grabs her laptop and follows Amélie out to the porch instead.

Amélie is draped on one of the bistro chairs, glass dangling from one hand as she watches the other three try to organize plywood into a vague approximation of their planned haunted house. She glances at up out of the corner of her eye as Sombra approaches, stretching one leg to slide the matching chair out for her. Sombra plops into it and sets up her laptop, ready to get to work. She has about as much desire to help with the build as Amélie seems to—that is to say, none whatsoever. Her own personal project for today is much more important. There’s a certain history teacher that requires a little…handling.

Sombra is getting into the coding groove when a stemless wine glass appears in front of her face, full of the deep red liquid. She grabs it automatically, glancing around to check if Gabe noticed. Amélie chuckles as she returns to her seat. Sombra hadn’t even heard her get up in the first place. 

“Don’t worry,” Amélie says, folding her long limbs beneath her. “Wine is an appropriate accompaniment for today’s entertainment.” She gestures over to where Gabe is bracing a sheet of plywood, allowing Genji and Zenyatta to screw it into the base and make the first of the walls. “Even Gabriel knows this.”

Sombra salutes her with the glass and takes a sip. 

Amélie looks back over to her. “What are you working on?” she asks, nodding toward Sombra’s laptop. Her long ponytail swings like a pendulum behind her.

“Programs to make lights flash and things jump out at people,” Sombra answers as she looks back down to the code that will hopefully make Anderson’s life as difficult as he’s making hers, at least for a little while. “It’s my contribution to this whole thing.”

Amélie hums. “Indeed? That sounds delightful. And surely simple for someone of your skill.”

“Amazingly simple,” Sombra laughs. “I’m surprised they haven’t done it this way before—“ She stops short and flicks her gaze up to find Amélie giving her a considering look. 

“Ah,” Amélie says. “Then what are you working on?”

Sombra stares at her, heart beating a little faster. 

Amélie’s face melts into a warm little smile. “Still having problems with that history teacher, are you?”

Sombra wills her face to remain impassive, giving only a small shrug.

Amélie just nods at her. “This morning my ex-husband called,” she says. “Again. Asking about his golf clubs, the ones he received in the divorce. Again. He says he never took them.” She shakes her head, makes a face. “He took them.”

Sombra relaxes a little almost against her will. “Where are they?” she asks, curiosity getting the best of her.

“Qui sait?” Amélie gives an expressive shrug, wine sloshing in her glass. “It is a game he plays. Asks about something, gets his answer. He does not like this answer, so we argue. He’s been doing this for years. Today is his golf clubs, tomorrow will be something else.” She takes a long sip as Sombra feels the tug of a smile at the corner of her mouth. “He threatened to come and look for them, so here I am. He can look in the yard, and good luck with the house after I changed all the locks.”

Sombra snorts and Amélie’s smile crinkles her eyes. “Actually, from what I understand, you’re not here,” Sombra says. Amélie laughs, low and deep in her throat. She now salutes Sombra with her glass and turns back to watch the show as Sombra returns to her program.

She doesn’t get much further before a deep, menacing cackle echoes from inside the plywood walls that now twist back and forth across the driveway. Gabe rounds the corner, draped head to toe in the black fabric that’s supposed to cover the walls. “Death comes,” he growls before dissolving into more maniacal laughter. 

Genji laughs around the next wall panel they’re installing and Zenyatta leans over it to regard Gabe with a neutral expression. He gives one sage nod and pokes Gabe on the nose through the fabric. “Death is whimsical today.” The other two crack up enough to destabilize the unsecured plywood sheet and it tumbles down. 

“At least they are enjoying themselves,” Amélie sighs as they scramble to right the panel and screw it in place. She glances over as Sombra snickers. “Your part of this madness is complete, you said?”

Sombra takes a slow sip and weighs her answer. “I need to wire everything up, but I’m not going near that mess until they’re finished.”

“Ah, so you have no desire to smash your fingers, either.” Amélie gestures to Sombra’s intricately painted nails.

“Not really.”

Amélie nods and says nothing, drinking her wine as the last of the walls go up. The makeshift haunted house leaves just enough room at the end of the driveway for Gabe to park his car.

Sombra glances back down at her half-finished program, brow furrowed. She’s still not sure she should be trusting Amélie, but something in her wants to. “Don’t tell Gabe?” she asks quietly.

“Of course not,” Amélie says without pause. “We’re just enjoying our wine and watching the show, are we not?” She waves a hand to indicate the lawn, rapidly turning into a graveyard as Genji hauls out and sets up fake gravestones. Gabe picks up a vampire figurine that’s easily a match for his size and drags it into the completed structure. “Besides, I am not here to hear anything that may or may not be worth telling him.”

Sombra takes another sip and gathers her thoughts, glowering at her laptop. “Mr. Anderson is a pendejo,” she finally says. “He’s still calling me Maria half the time. He’s singling me out for every little thing.” Amélie frowns and Sombra flops back against her chair, waving a frustrated hand. “Seriously, he wouldn’t grade my homework last week because I answered it in purple pen. Nothing says to do it in blue or black. And the guy next to me answered his half in pink, which was apparently just fine. I’m getting sick of it. Asking to be treated like everyone else is too much, I guess.”

“And what do you plan to do about it?”

“Right now?” Sombra gestures at her computer. “Petty revenge. If he wants to act like a child, I’m responding in kind. Let him see how he likes it.”

Over on the driveway, Gabe comes back out of the structure and hands Zenyatta the rest of the black fabric to hang. He then grabs a handful of bats and spiders, glancing up at the porch as he goes. But Amélie waves him off and he goes back to decorating with no fuss.

“What does your code do?” Amélie looks genuinely curious.

Sombra can’t help her pleased little smile. “It disrupts executions, has his computer launch pretty much anything but the thing he clicks on. Except it only does it less than half to time, so hopefully he’ll have a hell of a time figuring out what’s going on.” Amélie looks delighted so Sombra plows on, encouraged. “It also adds random emojis to his emails, but only after he hits send. And it will bury itself so a simple anti-virus or reboot won’t get rid of it. He’ll have to wipe it clean and do a hard reset to get rid of this baby.”

Amélie laughs. “Magnifique.”

“I’m trying to decide if having it blare nineties pop at random intervals is too much,” Sombra says, tapping one finger against her lips. 

Amélie’s grin looks a little evil. “Do it. Sounds to me like he needs to hear about the genie in the bottle. Female voices haunting his days might make him think twice, no?”

Sombra laughs. “Ah yes, but then what message will Hit Me Baby One More Time be sending?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Eomma and appa – mom and dad  
> Vete a la chingada, pendejo – Go fuck yourself, asshole  
> Qui sait? – Who knows?
> 
> So we have our nifty calendar to keep track of all these plots. The next step was to map out everybody's residences, because we were getting plagued by the mystical floating doors and staircases every time we thought about it. Gabriel Reyes is not magic and his stairs do not manifest in randomly different places on a whim, no matter what El thinks. His mother would never stand for it, those stairs will stay where she tells them to.
> 
> Thanks for all the comments. We adore them. Replies below.
> 
> FluffHelpsEverything: Junkrat for the win! He’s such an interesting person to have as a suite-mate. 
> 
> Cadence7: Glad you like it, and we’re really happy Jack’s social anxiety comes off well. We try hard to balance his character and the social anxiety that’s induced by years and years of being a hermit. Talking to people is hard. Gabe’s angry baking is one of Nari’s favorite aspects considering her stress relief is cooking. The more complicated the dish, the more stressful the week has been. 
> 
> OfficialVulpesInculta: Yay! So happy you like Genji. He’s so interesting because he’s still a 15 year old boy right now with all that comes with that in canon, but he’s already met and been with Zenyatta for years. And shockingly, even with all of that, he’s one of the easiest ones for us both to write.
> 
> silverhorse123: Your comment came in while Nari was swamped at work, so the only thing she could see in the preview was the first line. Her instant reaction was OMG Gabe and Genji would both murder him when they found out. Then she actually got a free moment to open the whole comment and laughed for a very long time. Thank you.


	20. suited imposters, hard realizations, and new hairstyles

Ana looks up as Jack approaches the table. She sits back and blinks at him, swiping at her remaining eye as if trying to clear it. Then she picks up a butter knife and points it at him, mock threateningly. "Who are you and what have you done with Jack Morrison?"

"Can it," Jack grumbles, tugging at his dress shirt's stiff collar. He all but falls into the chair she kicks out for him and begins wrestling with his suit jacket. While he's leaning forward, trying to unstick one particularly clingy sleeve, Ana reaches over and snags the end of his tie. 

"What is this?" she asks, bringing it up to her face for close inspection and dragging him with it. 

"It's a tie," he says, freeing one hand to yank it out of her grip so he can straighten up. "Obviously."

"Yes, but what is it doing on you?" she squints at him, tattoo wrinkling. 

"I own ties, Ana," Jack says, finally depositing the rumpled jacket onto the back of his seat. He starts to straighten the tie, a little self-conscious under Ana's disbelieving stare. Then he makes a face and strips it off as well, struggling a little with the knot. 

Ana watches with all the maternal despair she's capable of mustering, which to say is quite a bit. She slides a cup of coffee she must have gotten for him across the table once he's done with his sartorial gymnastics. "Of course you do," she says, "but I didn’t think you knew what to do with them. I was quite convinced you kept them around just to strangle any hostiles that happened to break into your closet."

"That's not off the table," he says with a shrug, taking a sip. The coffee is lukewarm. "Sorry to make you wait, by the way."

Ana waves a hand, as if it's not a difficult game trying to squeeze the free minutes out of their schedules that happen to align, especially with how busy Jack’s been lately. "Whatever kept you, it must have a fantastic story if it required you to go undercover at a funeral parlor."

Jack scowls at her, then pauses to consider his morning. He gives her a little shrug. "I wish I had, that might have been more exciting. I was at the bank."

Ana frowns at him. She pointedly looks at the tie. "Did they implement a dress code for customers?"

"No," Jack sighs, leaning back in his chair. "It wasn't for me. I was setting up Hana's accounts, getting my name added as guardian, blah blah. Boring as hell, guess I can't blame her for wanting to skip it."

"Of course not," Ana scoffs. "She's twelve. What on earth would make you think such a thing would interest her?"

"Hey, I didn't think it would be fun," he says, stealing a crumbled piece of pastry off her plate and shoving it in his mouth. "I just think she ought to have some financial know how before she grows up, is all."

Ana looks skyward and takes a measured sip of tea. "That means starting with allowances and budgets, at her age. Not subjecting her to an economics lecture from a banker. You can teach her the ins and outs of investments and mutual funds after she masters the basics. Not every lesson should be sink or swim."

"Now you tell me," Jack says gruffly. He lets out a sigh, pulling off his glasses to clean them on his shirt. "I don't know any of this stuff, Ana. I'm flying blind here. Pun absolutely intended."

Ana punches him in the shoulder. "I don't know why I put up with you."

"Don't you remember?" Jack smirks. "You swore you'd be forever in my debt when I covered for you from Sergeant Milliguny eight times in a row back in medic training."

"I also seem to remember the teriyaki incident," Ana says without hesitation. "To me, those circumstances seem to carry equal weight."

Jack glares at her. "You promised you'd never mention that. Ever."

"To anyone else? Certainly not," Ana says and takes another prim sip. "To you?" She hums. "I only ask you remember my limited patience with your terrible sense of humor before I begin throwing things."

Jack rolls his eyes. "Point taken."

Ana nods once, satisfaction clear. "I am glad you got all of that nonsense sorted out," she says, pinching the end of the tie between two fingers and lifting it for her inspection. She wrinkles her nose. "Though I admit, I don't quite understand why you felt it necessary to inflict palm trees on the public at large."

Jack snatches it back and stuffs the tie into his pocket. "I like this one," he growls. Ana shakes her head, disappointment clear. "I wanted to make a good impression," Jack goes on. "It wasn't just putting my name in the files. I opened a new college fund for her, made a bunch of new investments for it from her inheritance. Created another one that can be used for expenses the college fund won’t cover in case she doesn’t want to go. I want her to have every possible option when she's ready to pick one."

Ana sits back and regards him. A small, proud smile lifts one corner of her mouth and Jack resists the urge to squirm in his seat. "Good," is all Ana says.

"So what's new on your side?" Jack changes the subject as quickly as he dares.

Ana's smile widens until it crinkles the corner of her visible eye, but she mercifully lets it go. "Nothing terribly much. I think I've found a buyer for the Oldsmobile, I may very well go through with it. It would be nice to have the whole garage back again."

"So you can fill it with your next project?" Jack smiles. 

Ana hums, tilting a hand back and forth. "I'm not sure. It has gotten to the point that Fareeha is doing most of the heavy labor these days. Did you know she did most of this engine herself?" Jack shakes his head and Ana beams. "Yes, she did a wonderful job. It runs so smoothly now. But I am not sure I want to take on another now that she is away, at least not so soon. Perhaps next summer."

"If you do, maybe I'll bring Hana by. She might like to get a look at the inside of a car torn apart," Jack muses. Ana takes a sip, nodding carefully as she does so. "Might be good to encourage hobbies that don't require the internet," he can't help but grumble as she swallows. 

Ana frowns. "You seem to have very high expectations of the local auto parts store, then."

"What?" Jack asks, jerked out of the dark descent his thoughts were taking. "Oh, that's not what I meant. I'm just thinking it's good to do something with your hands, not online," he says, trying for a smooth recovery.

Ana says nothing, just raises one eyebrow high enough that it climbs above the eyepatch.

"Okay, it's just," Jack scrunches up his face. "She likes video games, okay? So I got her a new console thing so she can keep playing. I did research first, like about whether they're okay for kids and aren't going to melt their brains. So I know about responsibly monitoring her playing time and everything." Ana narrows her eye. "What?"

She shrugs. "I was under the impression the internet at large never comes to a consensus about anything, much less the appropriateness of such games. But more so, you know what Google is?"

Jack scowls at her, folding his arms. "Yes, I know what Google is." She shrugs, her silent amusement filling the quiet café patio. Jack holds out as long as he can before poking at his coffee cup and growling into it. "And I had some help. I've been using this parenting blog for advice and I asked the guy, he gave me articles."

Ana nods as though she expected this, smile teasing her lips again. "I see. So what is the problem, if she is properly supervised?"

"Well," Jack says, working up a good rant. Ana rolls her eyes. "Now she tells me she plays against actual people on the internet. And she talks to them and everything. Voice chat! Are you kidding me? Is there some kind of screening process to join these games, like a background check? There damn well should be, if you ask me."

"Yes, I'm certain your opinion is very important to these developers," Ana says. 

"There are consequences to this kind of thing, Ana," Jack snaps. "There's this guy she's been playing with for a while, and she says he lives in LA. She wants to meet him! In real life! How the hell do we know this random guy isn't a fucking axe murderer? Seriously, I don't see how anything good can come from talking to strangers on the internet." Ana says nothing, taking another sip from her tea while Jack fumes. But the crow’s feet at the corner of her eye have deepened considerably and her mouth is twitching around the cup's rim. Jack can feel the sheer force she's using to hold back her laughter. He glares at her. "What?"

"Oh, nothing at all," she says, voice wobbling with mirth despite her tight control. "I am only wondering if you've posed such a question to your own possible axe murderer?"

"What?" Jack blinks. 

Ana pats his arm, shaking her head. "Jack. Please consider you are complaining about her speaking to strangers on the internet, just after admitting you also speak to strangers on the internet. Or do you know this blogger personally, perhaps?"

"That's not..." Jack gapes at her, the irony sinking in. "That's not the same," he finishes weakly.

"Is it not? My mistake," Ana says with an easy shrug. She tamps down again on her amusement and takes his wrist in a comforting grip. "Jack, I understand your concern. But there are plenty of ways to make sure she is safe if she does want to meet her friends. Meeting in public, well-lit places, for instance. You would not let her go alone, would you?"

"No," Jack mumbles, still disgruntled. "But I'm just saying—"

"That the world is terrible, people are horrible, and everything is awful, I understand," Ana says with a conciliatory head tilt, her bangs whispering against her headscarf. "But they are not all murderers. She may have found a perfectly nice person. After all, Hana seems to have excellent judgment."

"You're just saying that because she liked you right away," Jack says.

Ana smiles and clinks her cup against his mug. Jack shakes his head but downs the rest of his coffee anyway as Ana drains her mug. She thankfully decides to take pity on him and changes the subject, the rest of their coffee date spent discussing light subjects. Too soon, she checks her watch and stands. Jack starts collecting their dirty dishes and waves her off so she can get to her shift on time. Ana nods, pats him on the shoulder, and leaves. 

Jack returns their dishes and heads out to his car, mulling over Ana’s advice. He feels a little better knowing she agrees with the blogger’s annoyed advice, to not let Hana meet this friend of hers alone. Besides, outside opinions or no, there is no way in hell Jack would let her go straight to this guy’s house. But this BlizzCon thing. He’ll have to do some double checking, but from all sounds it seems to be some kind of conference. Those are big, right? It’s probably as open, well-lit, and public as he can hope for. Otherwise, Yuna probably wouldn’t have agreed to it either.

And she will definitely not be on her own. Jack won’t be letting her out of his sight, come hell or high water. He should be able to take this guy if there is trouble. He’s trained for spec ops, after all. It’s unlikely this axe murderer has better training than that.

Jack nods to himself, decision made. Now he just needs to work out actual details from Hana, like dates and times. It should be soon? He thinks she mentioned something about November, way back before their lives exploded. That’s going to have to be soon enough for Hana.

He glances at his watch as he shoulders into his apartment. He’d like to do his own research on it himself first, get a feel for what to expect. But he doesn’t have that much time before he needs to pick Hana up. It would need to be quick. He frowns at his laptop, sitting innocently atop the kitchen table. 

Just looking at it makes him feel somewhat embarrassed, tinged with just a hint of shame. Sure, maybe he’s emailing some random person on the internet. But they’re not actually talking, just requesting advice and dispensing it. Purely business, in a way. If you look at it at the right angle. Possibly sideways. Either way, Jack is absolutely not looking for a friend. And he sure as hell has no plans to meet this guy, however helpful he’s been.

The memory Ana’s laughter rings through his mind and Jack huffs. He spins on his heels and goes to change out of his damn suit. 

Escape from formal wear always brightens Jack’s mood, and he’s still feeling much more relaxed by the time he pulls into the school parking lot. He watches throngs of kids stream out and around his and various other cars parked in the lot, some creating a secondary current toward the array of buses lined up along the drive. Then he frowns.

He gets out of the car and leans on the door, trying to get a better look with the higher vantage point. He sees plenty of kids he can kind of recognize, some parents he's seen often enough that they feel emboldened enough to nod at him, but no Hana. Jack squints and adjusts his glasses. 

He tells himself there's probably a good explanation for the delay. She could be held up by any number of things. But his heart rate kicks it up a notch anyway as he scans the crowd.

Jack spots Hana's friend, her colorful scarf standing out in the crowd. The girl—shit, it's Efi right?—sees him and waves, detouring towards his Civic. She looks a little concerned and a cold spike of panic erupts in Jack's chest. Hana's not with her.

"Hello, Mr. Morrison," she says politely when she gets close.

Jack bites his lip and hopes he's right. "Hey, Efi," he says and sighs inaudibly to himself in relief when she nods back.

"Have you seen Hana yet?" Efi asks, pushing her bright yellow backpack up on her shoulder. Jack blinks at her.

"I was just about to ask you that," he says with a frown. "Is she—did something happen?"

"No," Efi says, scuffing one foot and looking thoughtful. "At least, not that I know. I did hear her say she was not feeling well by the end of the day. She left a half hour before the end of class and did not come back. I thought she might still be at the nurse’s station?"

"Thanks," Jack says, slamming the car door and striding for the school.

"Tell her I hope she is well soon!" Efi calls to him with a wave. Jack nods to her and shoulders into the building, making for the office. He sticks his head into the nurses section but there aren't any kids inside. The nurse looks up from her computer when he comes in.

"Hi," Jack says, focusing on nothing but the desire to find Hana. "Did my goddaughter come down here this afternoon?"

She shakes her head. "No, I'm sorry. I haven't had anyone in since lunch."

"Thanks," Jack says and spins on his heel before she can say anything else. He makes it to his next stop at Hana's last hour classroom in record time. "Hi," he says and doesn't wait for the teacher to respond, catching her mid-rise as she extends her hand for a shake. "Do you know where Hana is?"

The teacher looks surprised, biting her lip. "She should be at the nurse’s station, she said she wasn't feeling well. Have you—"

"I just came from there," Jack cuts in, ignoring the tiny voice in the back of his head that sounds like his mother's worst nags and tells him he's being rude. "The nurse said she didn't come."

The teacher straightens fully and does an admirable job of keeping her calm, far better than Jack's managing. "She mentioned she wanted to stop by the restroom on her way, maybe she's still there. Let me check."

Jack follows her down the hall and waits outside with thin patience. He's just about to push open the door and say hell with niceties when the teacher comes back out, face twisted in a sad expression that does nothing to put Jack's heart at ease. "She's here," the teacher says and at least eases some of the icy anxiety in his chest. "Can you just give us a minute more?"

"Yeah," Jack says, settling against the wall and trying to look way more relaxed than he feels. "Sure."

A small eternity later, the door creaks open again and Hana shuffles out. Jack fixes his gaze on her pale and blotchy face, the redness to her watery eyes. She sniffs and Jack can't spare any attention to whatever the teacher is saying. He just holds out his arms and Hana buries her face in his chest. He hugs her tightly, giving the teacher a grateful nod. She returns it and pats his shoulder, leaving them in peace without another word.

Jack lets Hana cry until she takes a hiccupping breath, pulling back a little on her own and wiping at her eyes. He looks down at her and keeps his voice gentle. "Want to go home?"

Hana grimaces and plants her forehead against his sternum hard enough to make his breath stutter. "Sorry," she whispers when he jerks a little.

"No, that's fine," he says, smoothing her hair back from her face with one hand. She takes a few deep breaths before raising her head enough to give a small nod.

"Yeah," she sighs. "Let's get out of here."

Jack grips her hand tightly and leads her out to the car. Hana folds herself into a complicated knot in the passenger seat, but at least manages to entwine the seatbelt along with her. Jack lets it go. Just this once.

She's silent throughout the drive home and he has no idea what to do. Should he try to get her to talk? Ask her questions? Will that just make it worse? He tightens his grip on the steering wheel and frowns, indecision paralyzing him enough to let her be as they park and trek up to the apartment. She starts to head straight through to the bedroom, but Jack finally recovers enough presence of mind to snag her by the elbow. "Hana," he says, stuttering a little when she stops but doesn't look back at him. Her shoulders are hunched. "Are you...are you sick? Can I take a look?"

"No," she says, voice soft enough he has to strain to hear it. "I'm fi—I, uhm." She takes a breath. "I'm not sick."

"Okay," Jack says and lets go. She starts walking right away, getting into her room and closing the door softly behind her. The room remains dark from what he can see through the tiny cracks around the door frame. He stares at it. The message is pretty clear, but he's not quite comfortable just leaving her like that. 

His phone buzzes before he can come to a decision.

> Wilhelm, R. >> Hello! I seem to have made too much stroganoff for dinner, it is so difficult to cook for one! Shall I perhaps bring some over to share?

Jack bites his lip. A freshly cooked hot meal is something neither he nor Hana are in the habit of turning down, and it's not even an unusual offer. Reinhardt's poor quantity control is becoming something of a legend at this point. But Jack hesitates. 

> sent << maybe not tonight? hana's having a rough day

Jack glances back at the semi-closed door, turning and heading for the front door before his phone even starts buzzing in earnest. The apartment is small and he doesn't want to disturb her, in the probably unlikely event Hana is trying to nap. He waits until he gets into the hall to answer. "Hey."

"Hello, Jack," Reinhardt says, concern infused through his voice. "Is she well? Are you well?"

"I don't know," Jack says, setting his back against the wall and rubbing his eyes. "I mean, I'm fine. But Hana left class early today saying she was sick, though she didn't go to the nurse’s station. Found her crying in the bathroom after everyone else was gone. She says she's not sick but she's hiding in the bedroom now."

"Hiding?" Jack can hear Reinhardt's frown.

"Lights off, door closed tight, and everything," Jack nods even though Reinhardt can't see him. "I don't know what to do, do I leave her alone? Do I go in there? I don't know what's wrong."

"I might," Reinhardt says. "I must confess, I have been waiting for this for some time now."

"What?" Jack snaps.

"She is very young, Jack," Reinhardt starts but then stops himself, sorrow clear in his tone. "Although perhaps age does not matter. Anyone could do this. I suspect that she has not let herself truly come to terms with what has happened just yet. But such an impact can only be delayed for so long." 

"Oh," Jack says. "Yeah. I guess...okay." He thumps the back of his head against the wall, mind racing through every activity and new thing Hana has chased for the past couple weeks. "She's kept herself pretty busy, hasn't she." It's not a question. He chuckles a little, though it's humorless. "Gotta admit, I've never seen someone so excited to paint a wall before."

"Ja," Reinhardt echoes his laugh, equally unamused. "I thought that might be the sign this was drawing near. I am hoping this psychologist will help her."

"Yeah," Jack says. "Gonna be a long road though, I think. Well anyway, thanks for the offer. But maybe tomorrow or something?"

"Certainly," Reinhardt says. "I would give her some space but also do not be too far, yes?"

"Got it," Jack says. "Thanks." He hangs up and heads back inside, checking on the bedroom first. The door hasn't moved and it's still quiet inside, although when Jack stops moving and listens closely he can hear faint sniffling. A pang goes through his chest and he flops down on the couch, trying to determine what constitutes close but not too close. He puts his head in his hands and tries to breathe deeply. Should he call the psychologist? No, that's got to be going way too far. He'll have to do for now. Jack sighs. He doesn't want to be out of her reach if she decides she does need him, but he probably shouldn't be hovering right outside her door either.

Nevertheless, that's pretty much what he ends up doing. He pretends he needs the bathroom for an excuse to make a fly by and ends up loitering in the short hall, just short of wringing his hands as more sniffles echo out. Should he bring her water? He stops himself just in time before he can bang his forehead off the wall, frustrated by his own inadequacy. He's probably the last thing she needs. 

"Jack," Hana's voice drifts out of the bedroom before he can kick himself any further. He immediately discards all of his writhing thoughts and moves to the door, gripping the handle but not actually turning it or opening the door. After a pause she says, "you can come in."

Jack enters on soft steps, letting his eyes adjust to the dark room even with the extra light filtering in through the open door. "Hey, Hana," he says. She's sitting on her bed right up against the wall, knees pulled up to her chest. "Can I...?" Jack nods in her direction, unsure if he should approach. She pats the space next to her so he does come all the way in, sitting carefully next to her. He hesitantly offers his arm and she scoots over, pressing up against his side. Jack lays his arm around her shoulders and hugs her close. 

He still doesn't know what to say so they sit in silence.

Hana finally wipes her eyes with a sleeve, disrupting the fresh tear tracks on her cheeks. Jack looks around and sees a tissue box just within reach so he stretches out and snags it by the fingertips off the nightstand. He sets it down next to her and she grabs a few. 

"Thanks," she says and Jack just nods. He doesn't let go of her. "I'm not sick," she finally says, sniffing again. 

"Okay," Jack says. 

Hana hunches a little further against his side. "It's just...I guess I didn't..." She takes a deep breath. "It's really real, isn't it."

Jack twists enough that he can get his other arm around her in a full hug. "Yeah," is all he can think to say. He grimaces at himself as she buries her face back in her arms. 

"I keep thinking," she goes on, voice a little muffled, "that they're still up there. Like, it didn't happen. That this is camp, or like, vacation or something. No matter what, it never felt real. Even the stupid funeral felt like a...a really bad dream or something."

Jack nods, resting his chin against her head. "It's hard to accept, yeah."

"And then today," Hana hiccups before Jack's finished his sentence. "It was little, so stupid. Lúcio was asking about something for BlizzCon and I texted Mom's number to check without thinking about it. Like, fully expecting an answer and everything."

Jack nods. He's getting the sense she's not really hearing him, that she doesn't need him to say anything. She just needs someone to talk to. He tightens his grip and rocks her a little as she sniffs again.

"Then I just stared at my phone and it hit me so hard, that she's not there. That they're really not—I just..." Hana dissolves back into tears and Jack keeps rocking her, letting her cry. His eyes feel wet, too, thinking about it. It's not something he'd focused on himself, either. He's been jumping from one CPS requirement to the next living adjustment without looking too close at the root cause. Maybe Reinhardt's right, that this is something anyone could do in the face of loss.

"I do want to," she whispers into her elbow and Jack frowns.

"Want to what?" he asks when she's quiet for a long moment.

"To go home," she chokes, and turns to bury her face into his chest. Jack's heart twists painfully and he pulls her almost into his lap, keeping her in a tight embrace. They sit together as Hana cries, deep heaves wracking her shoulders. Jack can feel a few tears slipping down his face too but doesn't let go to wipe them away.

Hana's sobs eventually taper back down into sniffling, breath still stuttering in her chest. She quiets down enough that Jack starts to wonder if she's fallen asleep. He tilts his head to check and she blinks heavily, looking up at him with eyes that are red and puffy. "M'sorry," she whispers.

"Don't be," Jack says, his own throat raw and voice raspy. "You need this. We both do."

"I mean," she says and sniffs again. "I don't not like it here, with you." She reaches for a new tissue and blows her nose. "I want to go home, yeah. But I'm glad it was you that picked me up."

Jack gives her another squeeze. "Don't feel bad, okay? I get it."

Hana relaxes against him, slumped like all her remaining energy has drained out at once. "They—" She swallows hard. "They really are gone."

Jack forces down the lump in his own throat. He can only nod, once.

Hana sighs. She doesn't say anything else, just wraps her fingers in the fabric of his t-shirt as he keeps his arms around her shoulders. They sit together quietly in the half-lit room and hold on.

\--

The gridlock creeps forward just far enough to let Gabe sneak into the gas station. He probably should have stopped before work, but an early call to conduct an emergency visit put the kibosh on that. There’s no way in hell he’d leave a kid hanging while their normal caseworker is out of town, especially when they call in hysterics. That is a call he answers every fucking time. It just throws his schedule off and his commute suffers, but that’s part of the job. His daily plan tends to become more of a suggestion anyway, one that may or may not approach reality. And he’s fine with it, he knows it’s a thing.

But there are days when he just has to take some deep, calming breaths and try not to run anyone over. Gabe pulls up to the pump and slumps, giving himself a moment to envision plowing down all the idiots in his way.

He gives the traffic still clogging the streets a good hearty glare as he climbs out of his car. He yanks his wallet out with a little more force than necessary and slides the wrong card out, almost inserting one of the myriad of rewards cards he hoards into the slot instead of his credit card. Gabe frowns, tugging on all the little pockets to peer into them. The card is definitely missing.

Weird.

Granted, it’s not a card he uses often. It’s tied to what’s technically the emergency account, for which Jesse also has a card. And now that he’s out of the house, Gabe is trying to use it less. Just in case. Besides, he’s fully aware that ‘emergency’ sometimes means early morning coffee runs in his son’s mind. 

Gabe screws up his face as he tries to think. Did he lock his card up at home for safekeeping, to make sure he stops using it? He’s almost positive he didn’t; Gabe’s pretty sure it was still in his wallet just the other day. He’d better check first thing when he gets home. If it really is missing, that’s just one more thing he’s not in the mood to deal with today.

Gabe pulls out another card and gets his gas. The old station wagon can only make it so far on fumes. Then he takes one more deep, fortifying breath, he climbs back in his car and faces the road head on. 

The house is dark and quiet when he finally pulls open the backdoor. Peacekeeper emerges from the depths and barrels into his knees, and once Gabe gets inside he can see Reaper’s glowing eyes from the counter. But otherwise, the house seems deserted. 

“Sombra?” Gabe calls. No answer. He frowns as he lets Peacekeeper outside. It’s way too late for her to be just late getting home from school, even if she had a thing right after. Did he forget some evening event she had going on today? No, the calendar is clear. She should be here.

Gabe tries to keep his heart rate even by sheer force of will, pulling out his phone. His only new text is from Jesse, complaining about his physics homework and asking why Gabe hadn’t stopped him from taking it in the first place. He absently responds as he does a walkthrough of the house, checking and clearing each room right down to the closets. 

Sombra is definitely not home.

He sends her a text, but he can’t say whether he expects an answer or not. Gabe remembers well the early days last year, when he worried she’d take her chances back on the streets after a good home cooked meal or two. But it’s something he hasn’t bothered to wonder in months now. The missing credit card is starting to make sense, if she did decide to leave. Gabe glances back into the kitchen, a little allayed to spot Reaper still bathing himself on the island counter. He’d thought Sombra was settling in, and he’s hoping she wouldn’t leave her cat just like that.

But then again, Sombra knows how to survive on the streets. A four month old kitten? The odds aren’t good. Maybe she really would leave him behind, where he’d be safe.

Gabe scowls, the flare of panic kicking up in his gut in earnest. He wants to hope she’s just hanging out with Genji, though tonight is his ninjutsu practice. Gabe starts a text to him anyway, just in case. He stops just short of sending it when he hears the back door open.

Gabe spins around and marches into the kitchen proper. Peacekeeper comes back in first, kicking into full chase mode when Reaper takes a leap off the counter and bolts for the stairs. Gabe ignores them, relief sweeping through his chest when Sombra comes in and softly closes the door behind her. 

Gabe folds his arms and growls, “Llegas tarde.” He gives her a quick once over, automatically checking for injuries that he’s ninety-nine percent sure won’t be there. She looks strangely nervous, but her shoulders are thrown back and she looks otherwise normal. Well, except for that weird floppy hat she’s wearing. It looks like she’s shoved all of her hair up under it, which he’s never seen her do. Maybe she just didn’t feel like dealing with it this morning; he did hear her complaining about its length to Genji the other day. Maybe a haircut is in order, if that’ll make it easier on her.

“Lo siento, Gabe,” Sombra says with a shrug. But she won’t meet his eyes and is trying to skirt her way around the kitchen.

Fuck. Maybe something did happen after all. Gabe takes another deep breath and actively tries to control his voice. “It’s fine. Just let me know next time.”

Sombra nods, still not making eye contact. “Sure, sure.”

Gabe works to keep the frown off his face. “Drop your stuff, then get back down here and let me know what you want for dinner.” Sombra finally glances at him, brows drawing together, before she looks around the kitchen. The counters are clear of both dishes and raw ingredients, zero sign of dinner prep.

“You don’t have something in mind?” she asks, giving the empty sink a more thorough investigation than he feels is strictly necessary.

“We’re ordering in,” Gabe says. “Figured we should finish wiring Halloween tonight so you can test it.”

Sombra nods again and escapes up the stairs. Gabe watches her go, mulling over what could be bothering her. Maybe something happened at school again. He knows she’s still having issues with the history teacher from hell. He might have to check with Genji if she doesn’t say anything.

When Sombra returns, the hat still sits firmly on her head. Gabe writes it off as a weird fashion choice of the day. He sees plenty of them with the kids he works with, maybe it’s a phase. He shoves a pile of take-out menus at her.

Sombra starts sorting through them, still being oddly quiet.

Gabe decides to cut straight to the chase. “School go okay?” he asks.

Sombra shrugs. “I guess.”

“Anderson still being an ass?”

“Wasn’t so bad today. He gave us time to work on a group project.”

Gabe nods, wondering if that’s the issue. Sombra doesn’t really do people as a rule. Especially people her own age, despite Genji’s best efforts over the year.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Sombra continues without prompting as she hands him a pizza menu. Gabe pulls a face at the selection, but he did tell her it was her choice. Fair’s fair. “Bella picked me right away, and she isn’t a complete idiot.”

Gabe snorts, hold music filtering into one ear. “Better than the last idiot Genji was dating, I take it?” Gabe hasn’t actually met Bella yet outside of seeing her from afar at one of Genji’s shows, but he’s heard plenty from all the kids. 

Sombra snorts. “I don’t think you can get worse than Chase. I have no idea what Genji was thinking there. At least Bella’s cool.”

Gabe keeps his opinions as to what Genji may or may not have been thinking firmly to himself. He’s just happy he doesn’t have to try conversing with that moron anymore. And he’s saved from further response when the hold music clicks off. He places their usual pizza order, adding in some extra in case Genji decides to drop by after practice.

“So where were you this afternoon?” Gabe asks as he tosses his phone onto the counter. He’s gambling on about a fifty percent chance that Sombra will actually answer.

But she surprises him. Sombra yanks something out of her pocket and slaps it into his hand, the hard plastic pressing against his palm. Gabe blinks down to see the missing credit card, just as a sweeping motion catches his peripheral vision. He looks back up and sees Sombra toss the hat onto the counter, her hair tumbling down over one shoulder—or rather what’s left of it.

The left side of her head is shaved, a few bright purple stripes dyed into the short buzz. The rest falls in a single wave over her right shoulder and becomes a cascade of purple tones about halfway down. The very tips are so bright they’re almost white. Gabe blinks, startled beyond words. He did not expect this. But the shock wears off pretty quick and he can admit it looks fantastic. It suits her.

He finally pries his eyes off her hair and takes stock of the rest of her. She stands with a straight spine, trying to project all manner of defiance. But she’s not quite able to hide her fidgets, and her gaze keeps sliding away. He can almost feel the nervousness rolling off of her in waves. And yeah, Gabe can see why she’d be afraid of his response. He can’t pretend he’s not a little pissed she didn’t ask first, but he tries to keep that out of his body language. Knowing what little he does about her past, he’s not surprised.

Gabe pulls out his wallet with deliberate ease and puts the card away. “Looks good. You remembered to tip, right?”

If only he had a camera ready; her surprise is a sight to behold. Gabe maintains a straight face with herculean efforts. He never thought his reaction would turn the tables so neatly. 

“Yeah,” Sombra says quietly. “I tipped.”

“Good. Let’s get this wiring finished, then. We’ve got time before the pizza gets here.”

Gabe leads the way outside and Sombra follows, looking almost dazed. Gabe smiles to himself. As odd as it may seem, this is progress. He’s been waiting for Sombra to start actively pushing him more for months. Jesse sure as hell hadn’t been shy about it when he’d first come to California and again when Mamá left. And he expects her to keep pushing until she finds where his boundaries actually lie. Possibly further.

Gabe tosses the wiring supplies they’d set aside earlier at Sombra and she scrambles to catch them. While she’s still juggling, he says, “Next time just ask, okay?” She stops and stares at him. He raises an eyebrow. “That dye job will need to be touched up eventually. I’m pretty sure it needs to be a professional job, so ask. You don’t need to steal my credit card.” Gabe frowns. “Pretty sure they shouldn’t have let you use it in the first place.”

Sombra shrugs, dodging his gaze again. “Told them you were my dad,” she says, so quiet Gabe can barely hear her. She ducks her head, focusing on one of the components she’d left out here over the weekend. “They didn’t ask after that.”

Gabe starts running wires where she shows him. “I’d like us to get there,” he says seriously. “And part of that is you asking me when you want things. ¿Comprendes?”

“Sí, Gabe.” 

Gabe turns to look at her and finds her staring a hole through some piece of electronics. He leaves her be. She’s got a lot to process right now; all he has to do is get used to the purple. And he’s had plenty of practice getting used to Genji’s green, it won’t be difficult. Gabe surveys the haunted house to give her space, tracing the wires with his gaze to make sure everything looks right. Sombra will have to check it all later, but so far it looks good. Gabe doesn’t bother squashing the pleased smile he feels creep onto his face. This might be their best display yet. Gabe hopes Jesse can get home to at least see it, even if he won’t be here on Halloween itself.

They work in silence until the delivery car pulls up across the street. Gabe climbs out from behind the mummy figurine and squeezes out of one of the holes in the walls, dodging gravestones as he heads across the lawn to meet him. Sombra shakes her hair out of her face and follows him.

The driver looks up from his phone when he hits the curb and almost runs headlong into both of them. Gabe watches him falter and take a half-step back, eyes wide, when the kid looks up at his face. He clenches his teeth to keep the comments he wants to make firmly behind them. He reminds himself through a deep breath that if he bit the head off of every dumbass that reacts to his scars, he’d rack up quite the count. No point.

He doesn’t expect Sombra to bristle beside him. Gabe clamps a hand on her shoulder to keep her from going off on the hapless kid, scathing words clearly on the tip of her tongue. A warm sense of pride blossoms in his chest as she gives him a sigh like she’s indulging him. She yanks the pizza boxes out of the kid’s hands with far more force than necessary and sashays up to the porch while Gabe pays. He may possibly cut his normal tip in half to make himself feel better. Then he joins Sombra on the porch swing as the driver makes his escape. 

Gabe snags a slice from the open box on top. “So. Friday.”

Sombra hums around her mouthful. “What about it?” she says after she swallows.

“I’m taking Genji with me to pick Jesse up. Can you go with Zenyatta to get the ferret and all the supplies? He’d like to have everything set up in their house for Genji to find that night.”

Sombra groans. “Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Gabe says. “Zenyatta’s going to need an extra set of hands and you’re the only one free. He’ll drive you to the restaurant after. The rescue is holding the ferret for us, and the store’s holding all the supplies. Two quick stops and then the house. You’ll live.”

“Oh, fine.” Sombra takes a big bite, pretending to be put out. Gabe grins.

“Are you going out with Genji after?” he asks as he reaches for his next slice.

Sombra takes her time chewing and swallowing before she answers. “I might.” She glances at him out of the corner of her eye. “If that’s okay?”

“Sure. Home by midnight, though.” She opens her mouth so he quickly adds, “Not up for negotiation. And call if you need a ride.” Sombra huffs but doesn’t argue the point. Gabe tilts his head, thinking it through. “Actually, remind me to add you to one of the accounts tomorrow. I need to get you a card with your name on it. But I’ll get you cash for whatever the show’s cover will be this time.”

Gabe can feel Sombra’s stare boring into the side of his face but he doesn’t turn to look at her. Instead he kicks his feet up onto the porch rail and finishes his pizza, trying to decide if the yard needs a few more gravestones this year.


	21. birthday dinners, unsafe drinking practices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in honor of the couple people that apparently binge read this entire monster instead of sleeping (we're so sorry), have an early chapter! (Naw, we're not sorry.)

"Ugh," Lena moans. She slings her messenger bag over her shoulder like it’s full of rocks and shoves her aviators onto her face. "Freedom, at long last."

"Never is it sweeter than a Friday afternoon," Jesse says, pushing the brim of his hat down to shade his eyes. 

"I'm trying to decide if I should just plow through the rest of my homework tonight, or say to hell with it," Lena muses as they stroll away from the laboratory. "Part of me says fuck it, but the rest is hearing the siren call of a free weekend."

"Can't help you there," Jesse says, readjusting the strap of his bag. "Nothing planned for tonight, huh?"

"I thought about it," she shrugs. "But I'm bushed, too tired to go out. Might as well make my suffering complete if the night's already shot. You?"

"I do have plans, as a matter of fact." The black station wagon catches his eye as it pulls up to the curb across the lawn and he changes direction, walking backward to wave to her. "Hey look, there they are. I gotta run. See you tomorrow, what time?" 

Lena blinks at the car. Or possibly at the vibrant head of green hair that's clearly visible through the window. Genji has his face pressed against the glass and is making a series of ridiculous expressions. "You disappearing somewhere all weekend again?" Lena asks as she snickers.

"Nope, just dinner," Jesse says. "For a friend's birthday. I'll be there tomorrow."

"See that you do, mate," she grins back. "Ten o'clock should do it. Have fun!"

"Thanks." He tips his hat and spins around, jogging across the lawn and tumbling into the back seat. Genji spins around in the passenger seat to face him while Gabe pulls away from the curb. Jesse jabs a knee into the back of Genji's seat and grins. "Happy birthday."

"Is that today?" Genji reels back in mock surprise, hand to his chest. His performance doesn't waver even when Gabe reaches out a hand and pushes him back against the seat, leaning forward to see around him as he navigates away from campus. "I did not realize!" Genji continues, undeterred. "What with only the fifteen texts from you alone and eighty-seven from others, I had no idea!"

"In that case, surprise!" Jesse grins. 

"Yup," Gabe says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder toward the back seat. "There's your present."

Genji hums, pretending to give Jesse a considering look. "Is there an exchange program?"

"Nope," Jesse says cheerfully. "You're stuck with me now."

"Very well," Genji says, relaxing against the seat and giving Jesse a warm and sincere smile. "I will make do."

Traffic miraculously doesn’t clog the roads on the way. Gabe maneuvers the station wagon through the parking lot of the Vietnamese place with ease just in time for their six o’clock reservation. They head inside to find Sombra waiting for them at the entrance. Gabe wraps one arm around her shoulders, gives her a quick squeeze, and heads in toward the table she points out. 

But Jesse halts and does a double take in the middle of the entryway. Sombra poses, winks, and flips him off as Genji snorts. Jesse recovers quickly and tips his hat to her. "Excuse me, ma'am," he says. "I'm looking for my little sister, thought she was comin'. You seen her?"

Sombra laughs and tries to punch his shoulder. But he sweeps her into a hug, managing to tangle up her arms even though he’s lacking his usual serape advantage. Genji pops up and engulfs them both in his embrace. "She is right before you," he says, giving them a squeeze. "Clearly your terrible fashion sense has blinded you to her superior style."

"You've got that right," Sombra grins as she squirms her way free of the two of them. “Although I’ll admit, this one’s not bad.” She tugs on the sleeve of Jesse’s have-to-look-like-a-respectable-human jacket. But then she gives Jesse a look he's almost tempted to call shy. "You like it?"

Jesse nods, smile bright. "Sure do. Looks amazin', darlin'."

"It suits you," Genji adds and Sombra's face splits into a pleased little smile. 

"And to think I was trying to rebel," she huffs, shaking her head.

"Oh yeah? You'll have to do better than that," Jesse says as they follow Gabe to the round corner table where Zenyatta waits. "If my experience is anything to go by, that is."

"You could have told me that before now," Sombra grouses. 

"Some things, we must each learn for ourselves," Genji says with a sage nod. Sombra pokes him in the side and he squawks, serious expression dissolving as he swats her away. "Besides," he says while they take their seats, "would you have believed him anyway?" He twists to sit cross-legged and bangs his knee into Jesse’s thigh.

"I don't believe anything he says," Sombra says and tosses her purple-tipped hair over her shoulder. 

Jesse grins as he slouches in the chair next to Gabe. "That's probably for the best."

"Lord knows I don't," Gabe says, flicking the brim of Jesse's hat. "Off at the table, ingrate."

Jesse feigns a heavy sigh and drops it on the back of his chair, shaking his own shaggy hair out. 

"Looks like you need a cut yourself," Sombra says with a sly grin. "What color will you do?"

"Nope," Jesse blows a breath upwards to clear away the hair that'd fallen into his eyes. "I ain't colorin' it."

"Why not?" Gabe's eyes crinkle with his grin. "Afraid it won't go with the hat?"

"I'd do it if you would," Jesse shoots back. Gabe laughs and shakes his head.

"I will admit, I myself have considered it," Zenyatta says. "I am partial to orange. Do you think I could pull it off?" The four of them blink at Zenyatta's head, an uninterrupted expanse of smooth dark skin, and dissolve into giggles. He inclines his head with a smile of his own. “But I think I am satisfied as I am.”

“Might work for Halloween though,” Genji muses, resting his chin in his palm with one elbow propped on the table. “We still have time to find a wig if you wanted—hey!” Genji almost face plants onto the table after Jesse knocks his elbow out from under him, but he’s quick to retaliate with a prod to Jesse’s side. Zenyatta calmly slides their water glasses out of the way, using the motion to box Genji in so he can’t squirm out of Jesse’s reach. 

“Knock it off,” Gabe says while Sombra snickers. Jesse catches a glimpse of the betrayed look Genji shoots Gabe before affecting his own. Gabe nods over their shoulders. “At least until the witnesses are gone, come on.”

They give their orders to the waiter, who to his credit looks only somewhat alarmed. But Sombra interrupts their renewed wrestling match after he leaves when she tilts her head and asks Zenyatta, “What are you doing for Halloween? Are you coming over?”

“I am,” Zenyatta says. “I understand Amélie is coming as well, to help run the haunted house. It is quite elaborate this year.”

“Automation was a great idea. Really let us go all out,” Gabe says, giving Sombra a fond look infused with no little degree of pride. She ducks her head even as her mouth tugs into a smile, pleased but also looking like she’s not sure how to respond to that. 

Jesse sits back and squints at them. “Just how big did it get?”

Sombra pops back up, smile turning broad and slightly wicked. “It covers the driveway and uses the whole garage. It’s massive.”

“As one who helped build most of it, I will say it is quite impressive,” Genji says, giving Jesse’s shoulder a sympathetic pat. “It seems progress has marched on without you.”

Jesse folds his arms with a dramatic huff. “Ain’t no replacin’ a good, solid scare, no matter how fancy,” he scoffs.

“Don’t worry,” Sombra says, a little sing-songy. “We’ve got plenty of those.”

“You should come see it,” Gabe says, grin still stretched across his face. “We can leave it up for a while, when are you free next?”

“You would just like an excuse to leave it up the whole year round,” Genji laughs.

Zenyatta nods thoughtfully as Gabe shrugs. “He has enough space to park his car. What else does he need?”

“Don’t encourage him,” Jesse chuckles. “I don’t have anythin’ Sunday, actually. Might swing by then if you guys’ll be around.”

“Sure,” Gabe says with an easy shrug. 

Sombra’s eyes light up and Jesse starts to wonder if he should be concerned. “Good,” she says. “We need a test dummy who hasn’t seen any of it yet.” Genji cackles.

“If I die in this thing,” Jesse says, pointing a finger at each of them in turn as the waiter returns with their food, “I’m goin’ to haunt all y’all for the rest of your lives.” Their innocent smiles do nothing to put him at ease. But even so, he’s looking forward to it. 

“Actually,” Gabe says between bites of Bún bò Huế, “it might be staying up a little longer this year anyway. Will we have time the weekend after to take it all down? Or will that game thing take up all of it?”

Genji sits up, eyes bright, and swallows a mouthful of Nhúng dấm . “All of Saturday, for certain. I intend to live there.” He elbows Jesse. “Are you coming?”

“Nope,” Jesse says, shooting Gabe a grin. “Got important college stuff to do. Have fun.”

Genji and Sombra turn identical expectant looks on Gabe as he pivots to Zenyatta with no small amount of desperation. “Are you free that day?”

“Unfortunately, I am not,” Zenyatta says with a shake of his head. “I will be working.”

“Oh,” Gabe says, deflating.

Jesse’s grin widens so much his cheeks ache as an idea occurs to him. “I dare you to ask Amélie to take them,” Jesse says. He can clearly imagine her response and savors the thought as the others burst out laughing. Even Zenyatta almost chokes on his tea.

“Maybe I will,” Gabe says, but he’s chuckling. “For all you know, she might be fantastic at shooting things.”

“We know this is not your idea of a good weekend,” Genji says once they settle, giving Gabe a moving rendition of puppy eyes. “But we do greatly appreciate your willingness and sacrifice.” Gabe sighs and looks heavenward like he’s praying for patience, but he does nod. 

“You better,” he growls, but it’s clear there’s no heat in it.

“Actually,” Sombra says, squinting at Genji, “won’t you have your license by then? Can’t we just take ourselves?”

“No,” Gabe says immediately even as Genji starts to nod, eyes alight. “Maybe in a couple years, but not this time. Nice try. I’ll take you.”

Sombra pouts as Genji shrugs. “So long as we get there, I do not much care how we do so.”

“Then it sounds like that’s decided,” Jesse says as he claps Gabe on the shoulder. “Have fun.” Gabe just groans.

They pass the rest of the meal making fun of each other and scaring other patrons, which always cheers Gabe right up. Soon enough, they pack up what leftovers Sombra and Zenyatta have and filter out of the restaurant. Jesse wraps Genji in a bone-crushing hug on the sidewalk, ruffling his hair. “Another year older,” he says.

“And no wiser!” Genji finishes, broad smile on his face. 

Jesse laughs and tips his hat as they step back. “And many more.”

“Amen to that,” Gabe says, giving Genji a hug of his own. “Have fun tonight, kid.”

Genji nods to them both and skips off to follow Sombra and Zenyatta, concert awaiting him. Gabe knocks his shoulder into Jesse’s as they start making their way to the station wagon, tossing him the keys with his other hand. Jesse barely grabs them before they hit the ground, raising an eyebrow as he rights himself.

“What’s the point of having a kid that can drive if they don’t chauffeur you around?” Gabe asks with a smile. Jesse rolls his eyes but wastes no time planting himself in the driver’s seat. Gabe waits until Jesse merges on the expressway to say, “So.”

“Here we go,” Jesse murmurs and Gabe chuckles.

“Don’t give me that,” he says, fixing Jesse with a look that’s both stern and soft at the same time. “We haven’t talked in a while, so buckle up.”

“We talk almost every day,” Jesse protests.

Gabe waves it off. “I don’t mean three minute ‘are you still alive’ calls. I mean for real. How are you doing, Jesse?”

“What brought this on?” Jesse asks, though he knows deflection isn’t going to slow Gabe down. That’s more Genji’s expert tactic than his, anyway.

“You know what,” Gabe says, unimpressed. “Or have you come to your senses and decided you’re not a terrible person after all?”

Jesse sighs. “I was just havin’ a stressful week, had a couple tests that didn’t go well. Physics is still kickin’ my ass, by the way.”

“So I’ve heard,” Gabe says flatly. Jesse ignores him.

“And he’s just had such a rough month. I was afraid of makin’ it worse.” Jesse shrugs, keeping his eyes on the road. “It honestly didn’t occur to me before that night that he might not like guys in the first place. Think I took it a little hard. The girls have a fair bit of fun teasin’ me about him, and I got carried away myself. Then he brought that girl back with him and I guess I hit my limit.”

Jesse glances over in time to see Gabe’s artfully raised eyebrow. “So you had your bad night and what, you’re fine now? Just like that?” he asks.

“No,” Jesse admits. “But like you said, no sense freakin’ out until I know for sure. I’ve seen her a time or two again since. But they seem pretty busy so I try to leave them be. Haven’t actually met her yet.”

“Working on some project?” Gabe asks and Jesse nods. “Then I bet the odds are good it is just for school. Not saying it won’t turn into more, though,” he adds. “Her or someone else.”

“Yeah,” Jesse says, paying far more attention to a simple lane change than is necessary. “And believe it or not, I’m makin’ peace with it. I’m tryin’ to not be so…I don’t know, invested. His life is his own.”

“You do tend to get attached,” Gabe says, voice fond as he flicks his gaze up to Jesse’s hat. 

Jesse gives him a pointed look before he turns back to the road. “Don’t know what you mean,” he says, sarcasm thick on his tongue. Gabe laughs. “But honestly,” Jesse continues, worrying at his lip. “I’m more concerned about his well-bein’ than his datin’ life these days.”

“Oh yeah?” Gabe asks. Jesse can see his head tilt out of the corner of his eye. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure myself,” Jesse says as he starts merging over for the exit. “But it’s like, every day’s a little worse than the one before for him. Whatever’s goin’ on, it ain’t gettin’ better. I tried to ask him once and he just,” Jesse frowns, waves a hand, “shut down. Like he don’t even want to think about it, much less talk about it.”

Gabe hums, folding his arms. “He does that and he sure will make it worse,” he says and huffs a little self-deprecatingly. “Take it from someone who knows better than most.”

“Yeah,” Jesse says, reaching over to squeeze his arm. “I wonder if suggestin’ a counselor or somethin’ would make him think about it? Or might just piss him off more.”

“Dunno, kid,” Gabe says. “Sounds like he needs to get it out, one way or another. But if he won’t talk to you, there’s not much you can do.”

“I know,” Jesse sighs. 

He turns into campus and parks just across the street from the dorm. But neither make any move to get out, electing to relax in the car and talk about everything and nothing. Gabe eventually does stretch, yawning as he checks the clock. “I’d better head back,” he says, kicking open the passenger door. Jesse levers himself up and comes around the car. “Had an early morning, and I’d like to get a little sleep before Genji gets back from his concert,” Gabe says as he meets Jesse halfway.

“What’d you do?” Jesse laughs.

“Shhh,” Gabe presses a finger to his lips, wearing a grin like a Cheshire cat. “It’s a secret.”

“I ain’t gonna tell him,” Jesse says, playing up his outrage. Gabe just shakes his head.

“I’m going to let him tell the entire world once he finds out,” he says and wraps Jesse up in a hug. “Take care, kid.” 

Jesse grins into his shoulder before he pulls back. “You too, old man,” he says. Gabe gives him a nod. Jesse watches him go until the car fades into traffic, barely visible in the deepening dusk. Then he turns and starts to step into the street, but a motion at the edge of his vision catches his eye and he almost trips over the curb. Jesse stops and looks up, squinting to scan the rooftop. It’s hard to see it at this distance and with the poor lighting, the floodlights that line it all facing outward. But there’s a strange shape at the edge, and it doesn’t look like one of the normal stacks. Is it a person?

Jesse stares at it, trying to think of why anyone would be on the roof at this hour. Emergency maintenance? Or maybe—no, Jesse thinks they’d be moving if it were someone that wanted to jump. If it is a person, they don’t seem to be doing anything at all anymore. Jesse shrugs to himself. Maybe it’s someone’s idea of a prank, their very own dorm gargoyle.

He trudges up to his room and tosses his weighty backpack onto his desk chair. He knows he should try to get some work done, if he’s serious about going home Sunday to see the haunted house. But it’s late enough that he knows he probably won’t make much headway. And there’s something about working in an empty room that never helps Jesse’s concentration. He likes to have company, even if everyone’s absorbed in their own work. He somehow gets more done than he would otherwise studying with the girls, despite the ample volume and entertainment they provide.

Jesse frowns, turning around to contemplate Hanzo’s empty desk. Come to think of it, at this hour Hanzo’s usually back from wherever it is he spends all his time. And even if he had spent most of last night holed up under his loft trying to meditate or something, which did nothing to ease his scowl, he’d at least been here. 

Unless…Jesse squashes the thought, shakes his head, and goes back to putting his books away. 

He pauses with a hand still on the last one, reconsidering. Even if Hanzo is engaging in something fun for once, it might not be a bad idea if Jesse checked in. It is pretty late, and Hanzo seems to be a fan of alerting roommates to unexpected alterations in plans. He pulls out his phone.

> sent >> hey just checking in, you going to be out late?

He hits send. A tone immediately chimes from Hanzo’s desk.

Jesse stares at it. Then he goes over and pokes aside a sheet of notes and sure enough, Hanzo’s phone is lying on the desk. That’s odd. 

Jesse blinks and steps back, taking in the other side of the dorm anew. With what little Hanzo seems to have, it’s hard to tell at first glance. But the place almost looks torn apart. The desk itself is the worst case, books and notes toppled across it almost as if Hanzo swept an arm across the shelf above it and knocked everything off. 

Jesse lifts a notebook in the corner. The little figurine is missing.

He retreats to his side, not quite sure what to do. Especially if Hanzo doesn’t have his phone, which he’s betting is unusual. Then a thought occurs to him: the possible-person on the roof. Jesse bites his lip. It probably wouldn’t hurt to check.

He hoofs it up the stairs, slowing when he reaches the roof access door. A quick glance confirms the lock’s been popped and the door is ajar, held open a crack by a doorstop jammed into one corner. He slips through, careful to replace the doorstop. Then he picks his way across the roof and comes upon his missing roommate.

Hanzo sits at the edge, balanced on his knees with his combat boots folded precariously under him. He doesn’t move even when Jesse gets close, though he can see Hanzo’s grip tighten around some kind of bottle as he comes to a stop next to him. Jesse stands there and waits. But Hanzo doesn’t so much as acknowledge him, staring fixedly at something on the ledge right in front of him. Jesse turns his head and—ah, there’s the figurine. 

Hanzo looks like he’s trying to glare a hole through it.

Jesse takes a deep breath. He’s going to have to break the ice. “Hey,” he says, sticking his hands in his pockets and planting his feet. Hanzo says nothing, jaw tightening. “Nice evenin’,” Jesse adds after neither of them move. 

Hanzo snorts. “What do you want?” he asks through his teeth. 

“Nothin’,” Jesse says easily. “Just gettin’ a load of the view, is all.” Hanzo finally tilts his head to look up at him, raising an eyebrow. Jesse gestures to the asphalt. “Mind if I sit?”

“Do as you wish,” Hanzo sighs, turning back to face the ledge. He does a fantastic job of pretending Jesse isn’t there as he settles down, wrapping his arms around his knees. 

He glances back over his shoulder at the access door, a new thought occurring to him. “You come up here a lot?” 

Hanzo tilts his head. His shoulders slump a little. “Sometimes. When I need…peace.”

Jesse glances over the ledge and takes in the shouting and honking and general cacophony of a busy campus on a Friday night. He looks back to Hanzo with an eyebrow aloft. “Funny you come up here to find it.”

“It is a habit,” Hanzo allows. “It was peaceful on the rooftops, back h…where I came from. Even if it is much louder here, it is,” he pauses, lifts his free hand and tilts it back and forth once, “somewhat comforting. It is not the same, but it has helped the time or two I have come here before.”

Jesse leans back, thoughts derailed. Time or two? He’d started to assume that maybe this is where Hanzo disappears to all the time, if it’s such a habit. Jesse knows he can be larger than life. Maybe he couldn’t blame Hanzo for needing some space after sharing a room with him. “Oh yeah?” he says, trying and failing to tamp down on his need to be sure. “Have you found somethin’ better?”

“Better than what?” Hanzo asks, sounding startled.

“Better than the roof. For your peace.”

“Oh,” Hanzo says. He takes a swig from the bottle, the contents sloshing at the precise pitch to suggest the presence of a fair amount of air. “No. This place is very loud.”

Jesse can’t help his laugh. Hanzo watches him with wide eyes, looking a little like he’s never seen someone do that before. Jesse tries to reign himself in and chokes out, “Sorry.”

Hanzo screws up his face. “For what?”

“For—never mind,” Jesse says. He’s starting to think Hanzo’s a few more sheets to the wind that he first suspected. 

Hanzo nods once. He offers his bottle but Jesse declines with a wave, so Hanzo takes another sip. They sit in companionable silence until Hanzo says, “I have not had the time.”

Jesse glances over at him. When nothing else seems forthcoming, he asks, “Time for what?”

“To find a quiet place. Our room is not so bad, but then our neighbors begin their parades of…what do you call the animal, the one that is big and grey? And loud?”

“Uhm,” Jesse falters. “Elephants?”

Hanzo inclines his head. “They—the neighbors—start their elephants at inopportune times.”

“Aw, Jaime ain’t so bad,” Jesse says with a grin. “Ain’t seen too much of Mako, can’t speak for him. But I think they’re all right.”

Hanzo gives him a flat stare. “Elephants,” he says darkly.

“Okay, point taken,” Jesse chuckles. 

“And I have so much to do, I do not have time.” Hanzo runs his free hand down his face in a gesture so tired that Jesse closes his mouth around his questions. “But I must…I must stay busy. Very busy,” he tells Jesse seriously.

“Oh,” Jesse says without thinking. “And here I thought you were just avoiding me.”

Hanzo turns and gives him a startled stare. “Why would I do such a thing?”

“Uh,” Jesse says, blinking. “Oh, I don’t know. I didn’t mean…well. I know I can be a little much sometimes, thought maybe you didn’t like me. Or something. Never mind.”

Hanzo keeps staring. Jesse’s eyes start watering in sympathy. “I do like you,” Hanzo says and Jesse’s heart gives a breath-stealing leap. “I like you very much,” Hanzo goes on, earnest and unwittingly merciless. “You are a nice man. Too nice, I think.”

“Oh,” Jesse says. He’s glad the light around them is poor and that Hanzo is probably not going to remember this in the morning, because his face is so hot it feels like it’s about to melt off. “Thanks?”

“Too nice, when I have done nothing to deserve it.” Hanzo tilts the bottle and takes another swig. Jesse wonders if he should try to take it, maybe put it out of reach. “I know you bought that tea for me. I am sure of it.”

“Oh, lord,” Jesse murmurs to himself, hunching over his knees. “Look, I didn’t mean anything by it—“

“Thank you,” Hanzo says, the barest of slurs tinging his voice. He frowns, face scrunched up like he’s having trouble choosing the right words. “This time of year is…difficult for me. And then I make it difficult for you and those around me. I think, ah, I must apologize. You have been a friend to me, even through the worst of my moods.” Hanzo pauses to swallow hard, looking down and thus missing Jesse’s further rueful retreat between his shoulders. Or so Jesse hopes. “I think I could not blame you if it were you that found me unlikable.”

“No,” Jesse says too quickly, sitting straight with a crack of his spine. He coughs and rubs the back of his neck as Hanzo looks up at him. “I mean, of course I like you. What’s not to like?”

Hanzo keeps staring at him and Jesse is ready to sink through the rooftop. “Are you certain? That you like me?”

“Very,” Jesse says firmly, voice as level as he can get it. His ears feel like they’re on fire.

“Oh,” Hanzo almost whispers and Jesse needs to change this topic right now, immediately. He opens his mouth to say something stupid and inadequate but Hanzo tilts his head back and takes a deep drink. Jesse’s entire train of thought goes off the rails as his eyes zero in on that long throat. Hanzo wipes his mouth on his sleeve and doesn’t give him the chance to straighten it out. “I am…unaccustomed, I think is the word? To this. I am not—“ he stops short, grimaces. “ _Was_ not the more personable between us back home. Most of our friends came for my brother. I think they found me…cold. Strict. What is…unbending? I cannot think of—“

“You mean you had a stick up your ass, darlin’,” Jesse says and Hanzo belts out a hearty laugh. Jesse’s heart seizes up at the sound and the sight, the faint light glinting off Hanzo’s teeth before he claps a hand over his mouth. It doesn’t muffle the subsequent giggles, nor is it high enough to hide the blush Jesse can barely make out across his sharp cheekbones. Although Jesse suspects that has a lot more to do with the liquor than his comment. Hanzo almost knocks the little figure off the ledge with one swaying elbow so Jesse leans over and swipes it, pocketing it in his jacket for safekeeping.

“Yes,” Hanzo says once he settles down. “That is what they thought, I am certain. My…” He sighs, all traces of mirth bleeding out of him in an instant. “My brother was my opposite. He was so cheerful, so charming. So…young.”

Jesse frowns. It has not escaped his attention that Hanzo refers to his sibling in the past tense. 

"G—" Hanzo chokes, does a full body flinch. Jesse starts to reach out to him before arresting the motion, pulling back quickly. He gets the sense it would not be appreciated. Hanzo takes a deep breath, oblivious to Jesse's minor flail, and starts anew. "My brother was my only real friend, for a time. But our interests...diverged. I invested myself in the family business, as was expected. He did not."

Jesse decides to test his suspicions. "So he wanted somethin' else out of life, huh? Your family let him do it?"

"No," Hanzo says, fingers squeezing the bottle. Jesse can make out the whiteness to the joints even in the dark. "So he took matters into his own hands. He attempted escape."

"Oh," Jesse says. His brains starts to paint the likely tragic narrative from the snippets Hanzo has given him. His stomach sinks. "He didn't make it?"

Hanzo bows his head. "No. His efforts cost him his life. I learned from his example, I chose the slower path. When it came time to leave for school, I was able to…” Hanzo frowns, eyes almost going cross-eyed as he searches for a word. “What is it called, when you deceive others with a false trail?”

“Mislead?” Jesse offers and Hanzo nods decisively.

“Yes, that is it. I was able to mislead my family into believing I went to east as they expected, and came here instead.” Hanzo scowls, jaw so tense Jesse worries he’s going to crack his teeth. “I now have the freedom he deserved. How should I be satisfied with this? I do not deserve it.”

“Hold up,” Jesse says, throwing caution to the wind and laying a hand on Hanzo’s arm. “Obviously I don’t know your brother and can’t speak for him, but I’m willin’ to bet he’d be happy you got yourself out of there.”

“It would be very likely,” Hanzo says, almost mockingly. “And so it is all the more undeserved. You do not understand.”

“Then why—“ Jesse starts before Hanzo shakes his hand off, gesture impressively precise for someone so plastered.

“My brother is dead,” he snaps, eyes burning as he holds Jesse’s gaze, “because of _me_.”

Jesse gapes at him. He hadn't expected that. Hanzo maintains his glare, daring him to say something. Jesse regains enough presence of mind to close his mouth, tilting his head and taking his time as he considers the situation before him.

Hanzo is drunk, certainly. Angry. At his family? Probably. Who wouldn't be? But Jesse squints, watching his furious mask crack a little around the edges. Hanzo still doesn't say anything, like he's waiting for Jesse's contribution. And from the number of times he's repeated that he is undeserving...Jesse suspects he's more angry with himself. He may very well be waiting for Jesse to add his condemnation, to validate what Hanzo clearly feels. Especially if he thinks he's responsible. And if Jesse tries to say something soothing, he looks more than ready to start a fight. To vindicate his own guilt for himself if Jesse won't do it for him.

Well. If it's condemnation he wants, Jesse won't give it to him. He waits, and the long moment passes. Hanzo looks down, glare melting into a frown that just looks...tired.

"How old were you?" Jesse says into the quiet. 

Hanzo jerks his head up, eyes wide. "What?"

"When it happened," Jesse says, infusing his voice with patience. "How old were you?"

Jesse watches as Hanzo visibly tries to reorient his thoughts. "I was..." he stops, swallows hard, "I was fourteen. He was...younger than I."

"Okay," Jesse says with an easy shrug. His mind churns, turning over that long stretch of time that Hanzo must have spent stewing in his guilt. He's got to be eighteen, or at least close enough not to matter. That makes four years of regret and self-hate, all the while stuck with the people that made it happen in the first place? No wonder he's been so pissed. But Jesse tries not to let any of that show on his face as Hanzo stares at him again.

"Okay?" Hanzo repeats, incredulous. "That is all you have to say?"

"What did you want me to say?" Jesse asks and Hanzo flinches. His grip on the bottle tightens so much Jesse can hear his joints creak.

"Is this not repulsive to you? Are you truly at ease knowing you share your space with a murderer?"

"Fourteen," Jesse says and Hanzo scowls.

"Yes, I have said," he snaps. "You are not—"

"I ain’t gonna insult you and say somethin’ like it weren't your fault or tripe like that," Jesse interrupts. "I wasn't there, obviously I don't know what happened. But I'm havin' a hard time believin' you caused his death, is all." 

Hanzo's face twists with frustration. "You do not understand," he says. "I was the only lifeline he had in that place. And I dismissed him, I turned him away." He shakes his head, grimacing in what looks like actual pain. "His concerns were perfectly valid. And I told him to grow up."

Jesse shrugs again. "I remember bein' a dumb shit at fourteen myself, okay? Thought I knew everything worth knowin' back then. You any different?"

Hanzo blinks hard. "No," he says, a little hesitant. 

"And you said he had concerns. About what, exactly?"

"About," Hanzo pauses, takes another drink from the bottle. "About our family. The things they were doing."

"Okay," Jesse says. "And did you have any suspicions yourself?" Hanzo stares at him, looking lost. "Or did you only see what they let you see?" Jesse adds, voice as gentle as he can make it. 

"No," Hanzo says. "I had none. It was not until after that I began to see them for what they are. The family was my entire world."

Jesse nods. "And they weren't your brother's."

"No," Hanzo whispers after a moment.

"But he came to you, huh?" Jesse goes on, treading carefully. He guesses this is the thinnest ice.

Hanzo gives him one slow nod, deep in thought. "We used to tell each other everything. We were very close, when we were younger. But then..." Hanzo folds inward, shoulders hunching. He takes another swig and sets the bottle down hard beside his knee. It wobbles in place so Jesse reaches out to steady it, using the excuse to slide it over to his other side and out of Hanzo's reach. He takes a peek at the label as he sets it down. It looks like some kind of sake, and not a terribly refined one. It’s almost empty.

"But then they got to you," Jesse finishes for him. "You're the older brother, you said? So, what, the heir?" Hanzo nods. "Bet they dumped a lot of responsibility on your shoulders. Fed you a lot of crap."

"That does not matter," Hanzo says. "They did, but my choices were my own. I chose to turn him away."

"Yes, you did," Jesse agrees. Hanzo jerks back and stares at him, startled. Jesse gives him a sad smile. "That's why your choice to leave them for yourself is so important. You came to your senses in the end. And even if you didn't help him back then, you didn't kill him, neither."

Hanzo's mouth works, no sounds coming out. He reaches down for the bottle, feeling around without tearing his gaze from Jesse's. He gives up when he can't find it, folding his arms across his chest. "But I..." he starts, blinking heavily. "I did, it is my—"

"No," Jesse says. "What actually happened?"

"I—" Hanzo swallows, then lets out a gust of air. "I was away. I am not...not certain..."

"You were away," Jesse repeats, frowning. "If you were away, what could you have done to help him?"

"Many things," Hanzo growls, shaking his head. "And I think upon them every day. He was not in danger until I rebuffed him. I could have counseled, what is the word—patience. Told him to await my return. Told him to come to me, it could have been easily managed." His face twists in anger. "But I called him a fool, and told him to stop dodging his respo...respobil—" Hanzo huffs and tries again, "his responsibilities. I was angry he did not take them as seriously as I did, and I told him as much. It was only after he knew I was no longer his ally that he was...that he..." He waves a hand, trying to express what his uncooperative tongue won't let him. "That he took action."

Jesse listens in silence, letting him get it all out. He just gives Hanzo a nod he hopes conveys understanding, if Hanzo isn't too far gone into drink and self-recrimination to pick up on nuance. The anger sloughs off of Hanzo's shoulders and leaves only weariness and sorrow in his face, so striking that Jesse feels an answering pang in his own chest.

"When I returned," Hanzo says, voice halting, "there was nothing left of him. Even his room had been...converted, for general purpose. There was only a small shrine, in the garden. There was no mourning." He makes a face and Jesse almost reaches out for him, again thinking better of it at the last second. "To the family, it was nothing but a lost investment. To me...it shattered my world."

Hanzo's voice breaks on the last word. Jesse does lay a hand on his shoulder at that, heart twisting. Hanzo jerks at the touch. But then he leans into it so Jesse scoots closer, jeans dragging on the asphalt. He slides his arm all the way around Hanzo's shoulders.

"You made a mistake," Jesse says softly. "Same as anyone does at that age. The both of you paid a far higher price for it than most. But that don't make you a murderer." Hanzo heaves out a breath and slumps against his side so Jesse tightens his hold. "You came to your senses and you got out. That counts for more than you're willin’ to credit yourself. Your brother'd be proud of you, Hanzo."

Hanzo says nothing. It might be that he's finally succumbing to his exhaustion and the amount of alcohol in him, but Jesse hopes that it's also because he's taking some of this to heart. He keeps his arm wrapped around Hanzo and feels him take breath after shaky breath. Jesse tilts his head back and counts the faint stars to give him some measure of privacy, heart heavy in his own chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we think at this point it's worth noting that certain relationships (ie. r76) might seem to be moving a little slow (ha). That's mainly because when we envisioned this story, we expected to be done with it by this word count........which obviously isn't the case. So we will get there, we promise. The timeline itself is set, even if the plot kind of blossomed beyond belief in between. As they say, life happens.
> 
> To everyone that has commented on Gabe’s parenting, we’re glad you like it. His parenting style is actually based on Nari’s dad. Yes, she knows exactly how lucky she was growing up.
> 
> And as always, thanks for all the comments. You guys brighten up some seriously long work days.


	22. party and afterparty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plethora of OCs in this chapter because Genji knows too many damn people.

Genji hops out of the car and glances over the crowd waiting outside the club doors. It looks like they’re just now opening the doors, the first few people starting to trickle inside. He smiles to himself. And here he thought they were going to be late.

He gives Zenyatta a wave as Sombra climbs out behind him. Then he jogs over to join the crowd, standing on his tiptoes to look for Bella or Carlos or anyone else. He spins around to ask Sombra if she sees them but finds only strangers beside him. He looks back and spots her still standing at the curb.

He jogs back over. “Is everything all right?” Genji asks with a tilt to his head.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Sombra sounds confident, standing with arms crossed and one hip cocked. But Genji can see her eyeing the crowd. 

Genji gives her his best reassuring smile and throws an arm around her shoulders. “Come,” he says, guiding her toward the doors. “It will be better once we are inside.”

“Right,” Sombra says, not sounding particularly reassured. Nor does she shrug off his arm. Genji can feel the stiffness in her frame and tightens his arm. He does let go long enough to pay their cover charge, waving off her protest with the same arm he slings back around her. He leans over and pretends he’s admiring the X now adorning the back of his hand as it dangles from her shoulder until she laughs and shoves him back upright. 

But before he can retaliate with a good-natured poke to her ear he hears someone shout, “Genji!” He twists to search out the source just as Carlos plows into them from behind. Carlos claps him on the back, giant smile spitting his face. “Happy birthday, man.”

Genji lets go of Sombra to give Carlos a hug. “Thank you,” he says with a grin as they pass the bar and head for the tables. 

Carlos shoots Sombra a smile. “Hey, Sombra. Glad you made it.” He reaches out to hug her as well but she sidesteps it, knocking straight into Genji’s chest. He puts out a hand to steady her.

“Hey, Carlos,” Sombra says like nothing happened and Genji laughs.

“There you are,” a new voice shouts, interrupting the reply Carlos had his mouth open to make. Seconds later, a pair of arms wraps around Genji from behind and Bella plants a sloppy kiss on the back of his neck.

Genji laughs again and spins in her arms to face her. “Hello,” he greets her warmly with a kiss of his own. “You made it.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t too far behind you guys. Just couldn’t get through the crowd.” Bella lets go and curls into Genji’s side, jabs him playfully in the ribs. “Just because this stuff isn’t my style doesn’t mean I’m not coming, sheesh.”

He gives her a smile and wraps an arm around her, making sure to keep the both of them between Sombra and the bulk of the crowd. “We were going to look for a table, or someplace a little less crowded. Have either of you seen anyone else yet?” he asks.

“I ran into Ash and Tom before we split off to look for you,” Carlos says, shifting to shield Sombra’s other side. “They grabbed us all a table. Pat should be holding it, I think.” He leads them across the club, voice pitched just loud enough to be heard over the tumult. He walks almost sideways to address Sombra. “I guess he knows the opener or something. Pat loves the music but kind of hates crowds, so he said he’ll stake out the table all night for us. Says he’s happier in the corner just listening.”

Sombra mutters something under her breath that Genji can’t make out as she does a quick sidestep hop to avoid someone who’s clearly been partying for some time. Carlos reaches out to grab her hand so she’s not cut off by the large group that crashes into them like a breaking wave. She uses it to haul herself back into their midst before pulling away. Though she does give him a small nod.

Carlos beams at her and Sombra shoots Genji a slightly panicked look. Genji just shrugs, making sure it doesn’t dislodge the arm he still has around Bella.

They near a table and Carlos snags Genji’s elbow, throwing him into the crowd gathered around it. “I found the birthday boy!” Genji laughs as he’s passed from person to person, collecting birthday wishes. He finally tumbles to a halt in the chair next to Patrick, who has his back lodged in the corner with the best stage view possible from the table. 

Sombra plops into the chair at his other side so Genji quickly introduces her to Patrick, making sure she’s comfortable with him and will have an escape from the crowd even without him. He pulls Bella down into his lap with a bright grin and she bestows another kiss on him, just as Carlos drops into the chair on Sombra’s other side. Genji can see him lean in to talk to her out of the corner of his eye and smiles a little into the kiss. He knows Carlos won’t get anywhere, but he’ll figure that out for himself. Eventually. 

Bella pulls back and twists to rest against his chest, mouth next to his ear. “They look chummy,” she says, nodding to Genji’s left. 

“Well,” Genji says with a shrug. “Carlos would like to be, I think.” He casts a lazy eye over the stage setup now that Bella’s dark hair is out of his face. The main area is free of cords, amps, or speakers and leaves a wide open space. The turntables and computer sit on a table that’s much lower than he’s used to seeing, but maybe it just looks that way from this angle.

“Sure it’s just him?” Bella asks.

“Yes,” Genji says, settling his arms around her waist. “She is not interested.” Carlos laughs just then and Genji looks over to them. He’s leaning on the table on one elbow, grinning at Sombra. She has her back to Genji, but he can tell she’s leaning ever so slightly away and is reaching down for her phone. He grins a little to himself. Poor Carlos.

“If you say so,” Bella shrugs and pulls out the arm trapped against his chest to lay it around his shoulders. She leans in closer, pitching her voice low. “Hey, you want to leave early?”

“No,” he says absently, still watching the show to his left. Carlos starts gesturing with his hands, almost knocking his own elbow off the table. Sombra holds out her phone, showing him something on the screen. Carlos shrugs and shakes his head, so Sombra gives a long suffering sigh and turns just enough so Genji can see her eye roll. He laughs. 

“Oh, come on,” Bella says, tracing a finger across his shoulder. “I thought you only wanted to see the opener? We could take off after, spend some actual time together. You know my curfew is early.”

“I want to see the opener the most,” Genji says, putting emphasis on the last words as he tilts his head. “But I would like to see the rest of the show as well. Besides, I do not want to leave the group.”

Genji can see Bella’s eyes flick to his left. She opens her mouth as her brows draw together but her reply is cut off when the house lights dim and the crowd roars its approval. She shrugs and hops up, but Genji gets the sense this isn’t the end of that discussion. He tries to put it out of mind as he stands and takes her hand. He turns to Carlos and Sombra, jerking his head toward the crowd forming in front of the stage. “You coming?”

Sombra takes a deep breath as if to steel herself and stands to follow him. “Full experience, right?” she asks, sounding resigned. Genji grins brightly and nods. He gives Patrick a wave and leads the group right up against the stage. Bella leans back against his chest as he rests an elbow on Carlos’s shoulder, feigning boredom while they wait for the opener to make his debut. Carlos shoves him off with a laugh just as Sombra hip checks him and Bella pokes him in the side. 

Genji gives them all his best affronted look. “Betrayed from all sides,” he pouts. Sombra makes as if to grab his protruding bottom lip and he swats her away with a laugh. “Is it not my birthday? You should all be nice to me.”

“Never,” Sombra cackles as Bella reaches up to pat him on the head in mock sympathy.

The lights go out completely before he can retaliate. Genji finds himself moving to the beat as it starts out low and picks up in sync with the stage lights. The opening artist rolls out onto the stage, head bobbing and dreadlocks swaying in wide arcs. He taps the tablet mounted to his wheelchair’s arm with one hand without looking at it, both his attention and his bright smile focused on the crowd. He lets out a whoop and the crowd responds in kind.

Genji squints against the stage lights. He’s seen this kid around in the audience of various concerts; the hair and the chair are pretty recognizable. He just hadn’t connected the dots between him and tonight’s opening act.

“Lúcio, coming at you!” he shouts and ramps up the beat while the crowd shrieks in delight. Genji can feel the energy already thrumming through the club and grins, losing himself to the music. 

Lúcio clearly knows how to work a crowd, and he has a true gift for his music. He devotes his time on the stage to it, song after song flowing with no filler. He uses the tablet as he nimbly wheels himself back and forth, returning to the low table now and then to make use of the turntables with admirable skill. 

Genji has to admit he’s impressed. Lúcio’s performance could perhaps still use a little polish, but it’s clear he’s on his way to greater things. He gives the crowd a wave with a smile that glows as he signs off and heads backstage. The crowd starts shrieking for an encore, but the house lights come up and everyone subsides. Genji takes a minute to get his bearings as the techs start to rearrange the stage setup. 

He’d gotten dragged along further than he thought but he manages to find Sombra first, her new hairstyle making her easier to spot than the other two. She is somehow still standing near the same speaker where she started the performance so Genji jogs to her side. 

“Did you enjoy it?” he asks once he’s close enough to be heard without shouting. 

Sombra blinks at him. “Yeah,” she says, sounding surprised. “He was great. That was actually fun.” Genji laughs and grabs her hand, leading her back through the crowd to the table. 

Carlos and Bella have already made it back. Bella and Ashley stand to one side, talking animatedly. Carlos is ribbing Patrick and Genji drapes himself across their shoulders, still bouncing on his toes with energy from the show. Sombra squeezes by them and curls into her chair, so Carlos detaches himself and goes to sit beside her again. Genji listens with half an ear, enough to tell he’s talking to her about Lúcio’s performance with great excitement. He can see Sombra relax enough to respond freely so he leaves them be. 

Patrick explains a few of the modifications Lúcio made to his equipment and Genji is nodding along with interest as the house lights go down again. Patrick gives him a grin and returns to his chair so Genji snags Bella’s elbow and leads her back to the floor. She curls under his arm as they claim spots, a little further back this time. But then she goes up on her toes to speak into his ear. “Genji, are you sure you want to see the rest of this?”

Genji frowns at her, annoyance sparking in his chest. “Yes, I am sure.”

Bella sighs and looks back toward the table. Genji follows her gaze, noting that a few of the others haven’t followed them out. She meets his gaze and jerks a thumb toward them, ducking out from under his arm. Genji watches her long enough to make sure she returns to the table safely before focusing on the stage, just as it lights up and the second opener struts out.

Genji cringes as the beat starts up. He’s not sure what this guy thinks he’s doing, but it doesn’t sound good. After a song and a half, Genji throws in the towel on this one. He can’t even lose himself in the beat and ignore the rest, it’s that bad. He taps Carlos on the shoulder and points to the table. Carlos makes a face and nods. Sombra follows them back, looking relieved to put even a marginal distance between them and that noise. Genji sees her cringe as a particularly nasty chord squeals from the speakers. 

He throws himself into a chair with a huff, crossing arms. Bella leaves her conversation with Ashley to slide over next to him, raising her eyebrows knowingly. “Regretting your decision?” she asks, almost shouting over the cacophony. Genji refuses to call it music at this point.

“No,” he says, silently wishing for a blown fuse or electrical short. “It may improve after he is done.”

Bella leans back with a frown and says something else, but he can’t hear her over the noise. He’s pretty sure he can guess. Genji sweeps his gaze across the table and lands on Sombra as Carlos leans in close to her to say something. She tosses a horrified look over her shoulder and mouths, “Save me!” Genji chuckles and gives her a wink. She glares and he outright laughs, but he’s interrupted by a sharp tug on his sleeve. 

He turns back and takes in the tight expression on Bella’s face with a frown. She points to the door. He sighs but follows. It’s not like he’ll miss much of this performance anyway.

Genji waits for the club door to shut behind them before he growls, “What is it?” He’s probably a bit more annoyed than the situation calls for, but he doesn’t really care. Bella spins on her heel to face him, arms akimbo and shoulders tight. Genji shifts his weight for balance and readies for an attack on instinct, though he knows Bella would never do such a thing. 

“You know what’s up,” Bella says, voice flat. 

“I know you would like to leave,” Genji says, trying for evenness. “I am not stopping you. But I am staying. End of story.”

Bella frowns. “That’s really way too simple of an explanation here,” she snaps.

“I do not understand,” Genji says, losing his grip on his temper. “I have planned this for weeks and would like to see the show. It is my birthday, after all.”

“I thought,” Bella says, almost overriding him, “that you only really wanted to see the opener. And I get it,” she says, raising a placating hand as he opens his mouth. “That was totally worth it, he was awesome. But this guy?” She scoffs at the club. “You’re telling me you really want to see this?” Someone exits the club behind them and a few notes wail through the open door. They both cringe.

“He is not the end of the show,” Genji says through gritted teeth. “Yes, he is terrible. But I would like to see the main event.”

Bella takes a deep breath and lets it back out. She seems to notice Genji’s tense stance and takes a deliberate step back, out of his space. Genji relaxes without conscious thought as she moves away. She gives him a sad little smile. “This just isn’t my kind of music, you know?”

“Yes,” he says with a nod, trying to regain control of his mood. “I understand that. I am glad you decided to come despite that.” 

"And, well," Bella says, folding her arms across her chest, "I was hoping we'd actually get to spend some time together today." She adds some pointed inflections to her words and Genji clenches his jaw, ire rising again. This is one argument, already getting old between them, that he does not want to have again today. Especially since his reasons for spending even more time at Gabe's than usual over the past few weeks are ones he doesn't want to share. Gabe was the first adult he trusted in his new life and whenever he has a setback, it strikes a chord. 

"Are we not now?" Genji asks. He makes one precise gesture between them before lowering his arm carefully back to his side.

"I meant just us," Bella says with a sigh. She appears to be making an effort to pull back her own temper. "As in just the two of us. And since it apparently couldn't be before the show..."

"We discussed this," Genji says. He struggles to keep the spark of anger out of his tone. "Dinner beforehand is not an event I am willing to forgo. It is a," Genji takes a breath, "a family tradition." He knows most of his friends will never fully appreciate how much such a thing means to him. There was a time not so long ago when words like that were nothing but poison to him. But today, he clings to the strange web that's been woven around him like a lifeline and stands all the taller for it. That being said, he's not about to unload his issues onto his girlfriend in a club parking lot.

He breathes the smallest sigh of relief when Bella just nods. "I get that. I mean, I don't really understand it, it's not something my family does. But I do get that it's important to yours." Bella shifts back, relaxing her posture almost deliberately again. She waves a hand back toward the club. “And I mean, I know you’re a people person. But sometimes I start to wonder how important I am to you.”

Genji takes a half step back, startled. “Of course you are important to me,” he says, brows drawing together. 

Bella takes another breath, gripping her arms. “We’ve spent hardly any time together outside of band practice, Genji. We’ve got some time now.”

Genji gestures toward the club, jaw tight. “I invited the group here. It would be rude to leave them.”

Bella rolls her eyes. “They’d understand. Carlos is just as extroverted as you are, he’ll keep them entertained.” 

Genji frowns. “But Sombra—“

“What about her?” Bella snaps, jaw unexpectedly tight. 

Genji takes a moment to lean against the wall, fighting to keep himself from tensing up again. “She is uncomfortable in crowds. And she is only here to accommodate me. I do not wish to abandon her.”

Bella’s face darkens, like she’s received the answer she’s looking for and doesn’t like it. “So that’s it. That’s why you don’t want to leave?”

Genji takes a moment to make sure that his voice will be even before responding. “No, I still want to see the show. I told you that.”

“Sure,” Bella says, waving a hand as her face twists. “Of course. It’s got nothing to do with how close you guys were when I got here. All night, really.” She crosses her arms, eyes blazing. She looks like she might cry. “Were you hoping I wasn’t going to show up?”

“That is not—“ Genji stops himself before he starts yelling and says something he regrets, something that makes it impossible to salvage their friendship. He thought Bella knew him, trusted him. Apparently he was mistaken. “You know what,” he says, struggling for calm. Anger seeps into his tone despite his efforts. “If you do not wish to be here anymore, leave. I am going back inside. I am not having this conversation today of all days. I thought you knew me better than that.” 

Genji pushes himself off the wall and stalks back to the door. He pauses just outside long enough to watch Bella spin and stomp to the curb, flagging down a cab and climbing in safely. Then he nods to the bouncer, who does a fantastic job of pretending he didn’t overhear their entire argument. He’s probably seen worse.

Carlos is waiting for him inside, just out of the bouncer’s sight. He hands Genji a shot glass. Genji downs it, pulling a face at the licorice taste. Ugh, Jäger. Carlos grabs the glass out of his hand and replaces it with a taller one, sloshing with something brightly colored. Genji drinks, tasting something fruity and alcoholic. He gives Carlos a questioning look.

Carlos grins. “I have my ways.”

Genji laughs. “Of course you do. Thank you.” He turns and starts to head back to the table.

“Hey,” Carlos says. He puts a hand on his arm and stops him short. “You okay?”

Genji takes another sip and actually considers the answer. “I will be. Right now, I am upset. But I will get over it, I think. She will too.”

Carlos takes him at his word and shrugs. He leads Genji back to the table just as the idiot masquerading as an artist shuts up and leaves the stage. Genji folds onto a chair with a sigh of relief, leaning back with his drink dangling from his fingers. Carlos slides in next to Sombra, who has her phone out and is typing away on it.

She pauses and gives Genji a sideways look. “You okay?” she asks, putting her phone down.

Genji salutes her with his glass before taking another long drink. “I will be.”

“Good. Because if you leave me here with Carlos, I’m not going to be held responsible for my actions.” Sombra taps one long nail on her phone, looking sufficiently menacing.

“Hey!” Carlos exclaims, clutching a fist over his heart. “You wound me.”

“Good,” Sombra says and winks at him. He laughs as the house lights dim a final time and Genji smiles.

He throws back the rest of the drink and drops the glass on the table, ready to forget about his fight with Bella for a while. This time everyone at the table stands to follow, except for Patrick and Sombra. Genji tilts his head. “You coming?” he asks her. 

“Nope, sitting this one out,” she says, switching seats to move next to Patrick. 

Patrick leans back and kicks his feet up on the chair to his other side. “We’re starting the corner cool kids club,” he says, flapping a hand at them. “Scram, you social people.”

Genji laughs and lets Carlos pull him into the crowd. The floor is packed this time, everyone most likely wishing to salvage their night from the last performance. Genji starts moving with the beat as the music starts up, breathing easier when it proves to be significantly better. He’s able to dance mindlessly until the house lights come back up for the last time. The artist himself isn’t memorable, but his music is much better.

Genji grins as he pushes away from the crowd, looking around for Carlos. But Carlos finds him first, jumping onto his back and laughing as Genji spins them around. He drops him as they approach the table, sweat making their clothes stick to them. Patrick pitches water bottles at their heads when they get near enough. Genji thinks about just dumping it over his head, but cracks it open and drinks half of it in one go instead. 

Sombra stands next to the table, tapping away on her phone. “Gabe’s on his way,” she says without preamble as Genji recaps his water. 

So he drops it on the table and wraps her up in a big, disgustingly sweaty hug before she can dodge him. “Thanks for coming.”

“Ugh, off!” She squirms and tries to elbow him, making an exaggerated face. 

He finally relents with a chuckle. “Would you like me to wait with you?”

Sombra shakes her head. Carlos checks his own phone and jumps in to give Genji a hug. “I’ll walk her out,” he says. “Looks like my brother’s on the way too. You need a ride?” 

Genji looks fondly between them before shaking his head, dropping back into a chair at the table. “No, I am going to stay a bit longer. Have fun.”

Sombra glares at him. Genji grins at her and she tosses her purple hair over her shoulder as she starts walking away. “Adiós,” she yells, not bothering to turn around.

“See ya,” Carlos waves, jogging a few steps to catch up with her. Genji watches them go for a minute before leaning back in his chair and finishing off his water.

“Have fun?” Patrick asks, distributing more water bottles as the rest of the group trickles away with their own goodbyes.

“Yes, that was awesome. Are you staying for a while?” Genji asks, flipping his empty bottle into in the air and catching it.

Patrick shakes his head. “Just waiting on Lúcio. I wanted to at least say hello before taking off. But I’m headed out after that. My little brother has a soccer tournament early tomorrow and both my parents have to work.”

“Ah, so you have chauffeur duty,” Genji laughs.

“To three hyperactive nine year olds,” Patrick says with a long-suffering sigh just as the crowd parts. 

The opening artist rolls up to the table and claps him on the shoulder. “Hey, man. Thanks for coming,” he says, smile still bright. Patrick grins and helps him shove a chair out of the way to make an actual spot for him at the table.

“Of course. Glad I could finally make it to one of these,” Patrick replies. He gestures across the table to Genji. “You guys know each other?”

“Nah, not yet,” Lúcio says, flicking his chin toward Genji. “I’ve seen you around though, I think. Hard to miss the hair.”

“Yours as well,” Genji grins, brushing back a few strands of his own with a dramatic flourish. “That is the point, after all, is it not?”

Lúcio laughs as his dreadlocks bounce around his own head. He reaches across the table, hand aloft. “Yep, and we’re nailing it. Lúcio.”

Genji gives him his high five. “Genji. It is nice to finally meet you. I greatly enjoyed your show. That set up is pretty innovative.”

“Thanks,” Lúcio says, beaming. “I caught your band’s show last month, I think. Pretty great yourselves.”

“We are nowhere near your level,” Genji laughs, tilting his chair back on two legs.

Patrick bumps his shoulder. “I was going to be supportive and say of course you are, but you’re right. No one’s on Lúcio’s level.” Lúcio ducks his head and waves a sheepish hand. “But hey, I gotta run. Either of you want a ride?”

“Thanks, man, but I’m good,” Lúcio says, waving a hand in the direction he came. “Got all my stuff in the back still. My mom’s gonna come get me whenever I call. Pretty sure she’s at a coffee shop somewhere nearby drowning in caffeine and blissful silence.” Patrick laughs and shakes his head.

“I am also good, thank you,” Genji answers. He’s still too twitchy and energetic, not yet ready to go home. Maybe he’ll take a walk around. He’s pretty sure there’s an all-night arcade around here somewhere.

“Well, enjoy. Happy birthday again.” Patrick gives Genji a one armed hug and turns to Lúcio. “And I’ll call you tomorrow. When are you setting up again?”

“Probably around seven-ish,” Lúcio tilts one hand back and forth. “Go until we can’t keep our eyes open anymore, you know?”

“Damn straight,” Patrick laughs and tosses off a mock salute, threading through the thinning crowd. 

Lúcio turns to Genji with a conspiratorial smile. “I mean,” he says, holding out both hands in an exaggerated shrug, “I’ve never heard of anyone’s brains actually bleeding from a marathon video game session. But you’ll never know if you don’t try, right?”

Genji laughs. “I have tried to find out myself,” he says, twisting the empty water bottle in his hands. “So far I have not yet managed it.”

Lúcio lights up. “What do you play?” But before Genji can open his mouth, the house lights turn up all the way and the both of them blink at the sudden brightness. Lúcio glances at his phone. “Shit, right. They need us out to switch over to their normal twenty-one and up set up.”

“Very well.” Genji stands as Lúcio pushes back from the table and follows him out. He takes a deep breath of cool night air as they exit, trying to remember exactly where the arcade he has in mind is located.

But Lúcio stops beside him and gives him a considering look. “Man, I am way too hyped to head home. You hungry?”

“Sure,” Genji says, altering his plans on the spot. “I was not going to go home yet myself. Lead on.” He makes a grand sweeping gesture, complete with little bow. Lúcio laughs and returns the bow himself. He then leads Genji to a small diner a few blocks away, ignoring the empty hostess stand and rolling straight to a table in the back. It has a booth seat along one side and chairs on the other, so he starts pulling a chair away to claim that side. Genji quickly grabs the chair and shoves it out of his way before sliding into the booth. 

“So you game, huh?” Lúcio asks once they’re settled.

“Of course,” Genji says, his smile fond if a little subdued. “I all but grew up in an arcade.”

Lúcio snorts as he pokes through a menu. “Would that we all could’ve, am I right? You stick to that these days or do you play other stuff?”

“I have some consoles now,” Genji says, affecting a dramatically wistful expression. “But it is not the same.”

Lúcio shrugs. “Well, that I wouldn’t know. Never played many arcade games.” He waves a hand to indicate his wheelchair. “Accessibility, you know?”

“Ah,” Genji nods. It would be difficult to see the screens of most games, must less reach the buttons, from a chair. 

“But,” Lúcio says with a sharp grin. “I kill the motorcycle racing every time. Hands down, got you beat.” 

“That sounds like a challenge,” Genji says airily as the waitress approaches. She drops off a couple glasses of water and greets Lúcio by name before retreating to give them some time. 

“Yeah,” Lúcio says before Genji can open his mouth. “I come here a lot. Everything’s good, but right now all I want is all of the fried food. Wanna split a bunch of appetizers?”

“Sure,” Genji agrees, tossing his menu aside. Lúcio gives him a thumbs up and the waitress comes right back. Sometimes it pays to be the only patrons in a place.

“So you play Halo by any chance?” Lúcio leans in to plant his elbows on the table. 

“I do, but I am very new to it,” Genji admits. He feigns a look of concern as Lúcio’s smile turns almost feral, but he can’t maintain it. He lets it dissolve into a grin, paying close attention as Lúcio launches into a discussion of strategy and tactics that lasts until well after the food arrives. 

“You should play with us tomorrow, if you’re free,” Lúcio says around a mouthful of mozzarella stick. “I’m hosting a Halo party at seven, going all night. Maybe even Sunday.”

Genji gives him a decisive nod. “I believe I am. I would love to join you. I have another friend that might like to play as well, if that is acceptable.” Lúcio nods enthusiastically, mouth full, so they slide their phones across the table to exchange numbers and work on demolishing the remaining mountain of appetizers.

“The more the merrier,” Lúcio grins. “Hey, any chance you’re going to BlizzCon?”

Genji nods around his bite of fried mushroom. “Yes, actually. On Saturday. You going to be there?”

“Definitely.” Lúcio pokes at the bottom of his milkshake with the straw. “I’m meeting up with a friend, but we should totally hang. Pretty sure you’ll like her, she’s awesome.”

“I am going with…” Genji trails off, not quite sure how to describe the roles Gabe and Sombra play in his life. He never really is. They defy traditional labels. “Well, I am going with some family. But they are cool, for the most part.”

Lúcio laughs. “I think that’s all you can ask for with family.”

Genji leans back in the booth and rubs at his hands, focusing on the slight ache to keep from thinking of his first family. He knows he has it far better now, and tries to stay focused on that. And truly, the only thing he does sometimes wonder about is how his brother may be doing. But he shakes off the thought as Lúcio’s phone chimes.

“Oh shit,” Lúcio makes a face at it. “I didn’t realize how late it is. That’s my mom, making sure I’m not dead.”

Genji is a little surprised by the time himself. “I should probably return home as well.” 

“Want a ride?” Lúcio asks as he pulls out his wallet. Genji quickly adds his own money to the pile amidst the cold remnants on their appetizers. The tall milkshake glasses stand like towers in the decimated landscape, the remaining ice cream melted into soup in the bottoms. “That is, if you didn’t drive yourself.”

“If you do not mind,” Genji says with a shrug. “I do not yet drive. I hope to have my license next week. But I live in Pasadena. Is that too far?”

“Nah, we’re in Azusa, but we can drop you. Mom won’t mind the side trip. And this way you can help me get all my gear.” Genji holds the door open and lets Lúcio lead the way back to the club.

“Ah yes, using me for my muscles,” he says with a smirk as they move around to the service door. 

“Obviously,” Lúcio laughs. He turns out to be meticulously organized and the load takes almost no time at all. Genji is climbing out of their car almost before he knows it, sending Lúcio and his mother off with a wave. 

He regards the small house with surprise. It looks like the kitchen light is still on, though by now Zenyatta should have been asleep for some time. Perhaps he left it on for Genji? Which would be strange, considering the side door opens directly into Genji’s room and he has no need to go through the kitchen. Genji frowns. 

He opts to go in through the front door to check it out. Sure enough, Zenyatta sits at the tiny kitchen table with a cup of tea in one hand and his tablet in the other. Genji hovers in the doorway long enough to take a deep, steadying breath. Perhaps his adventures in finding out exactly how much some people trust him today are not complete just yet.

“Hello, Genji,” Zenyatta says, tearing his gaze away from the tablet to glance at the door. He lifts his cup. “Would you like some tea?”

Genji forces himself to move forward and takes the other seat. “I would love some.” Zenyatta pours him a cup and Genji lets the warmth seep into his stiff fingers, inhaling the steam. And trying to inhale a little calm. “I did not mean to keep you awake,” he says. “I would have come home sooner had I known you were waiting up.” He’s half hoping Zenyatta will tell him he wasn’t. It actually wouldn’t be too unusual for him to be awake at two in the morning, though less likely when he has an early shift. His concept of a sleep schedule is often more erratic than Genji’s own.

Sure enough, Zenyatta inclines his head. “I was not,” he says evenly. “There is some fascinating research about a new CPR device that I intended to catch up on. Your later return simply gave me the time to do so.” Zenyatta sets aside his tablet and wraps both hands around his teacup. He watches Genji, face unusually impassive even for him. 

Genji does his best to keep a frown from crossing his expression as disappointment and anger stirs in his gut again. “I see,” he says. Zenyatta could easily read an article tomorrow during his shift. He tries to keep his fingers loose around the cup but can’t help the way his jaw tightens. It is one thing for Bella to question him. But he thought Zenyatta had more faith in him after all this time.

“I suppose,” Zenyatta cuts into Genji’s indignation, “that I should say I was not waiting up for you because I do not trust you.” Genji blinks at him and Zenyatta tilts his head. “I merely would like to wish you a happy birthday one more time. And to hear a little about your show, since I will be gone tomorrow.”

“Ah,” Genji says, completely derailed. “Right, sorry.” He picks up his cup and tries to look like he’s not hiding behind it. 

“So,” Zenyatta prompts him. “How was your show?”

“It was okay,” Genji says with a shrug. “The opener was the best part, I think, but…” He trails off on a sigh. He’s overwhelmed by a wave of tiredness, not willing to think or talk about the worst part of his night. 

Zenyatta knows him too well. “What happened?” 

Genji lets out a quiet breath and stares down into his cup. “Bella and I broke up. At least, I think we did. Or we will, soon.” He shrugs. After some thought, he’s determined that the thing he’s most upset about is that it happened on his birthday. Zenyatta says nothing, inclining his head to encourage him to go on. Genji takes another sip to choose his words. “We fought. She wanted to leave early, I did not. I wanted to see the whole show, even though the second act was beyond terrible. I thought it would be worth the wait.”

“A warrior’s greatest weapon is patience,” Zenyatta says with a small smile. 

Genji chuckles. “Yes, indeed. And I did not want to leave the others, especially Sombra. She did not really know anyone else other than Carlos, and I know she only came because I asked.”

“You did not want to leave your friend. That is understandable,” Zenyatta says. He pulls his legs up onto his chair to sit cross-legged before picking his tea back up.

“I thought as much. Bella did not. She thought Carlos would be enough for her, and that…well. She accused me of wanting to stay only for Sombra, which was not true and certainly not in the manner she implied. She left, and I stayed.”

“This does not need to be the end, if you wish it,” Zenyatta says. “You should consider speaking to her once you are both calm, regardless. A situation like that is best not left unresolved.”

“I agree,” Genji says after a moment. “We will speak. But…” He pauses to take a long sip. Then he takes another deep breath before continuing. “I think it would be best if it were the end. If she does not trust me enough to understand Sombra is like a sister to me, then I do not think I could reassure her through the next test. And the next.” Genji sets down his teacup with a clink. He had truly hoped Bella knew him better. He may date quite a bit, but he does not cheat. “I believe that we may make better friends, after all.”

Zenyatta nods. “Yes, perhaps you are right. Will you be able to remain friends after this?”

Genji takes a moment to consider the question. “Yes, we should. The first few band practices may be awkward, but we will make it work.” He and Bella had discussed the band before beginning the relationship and he has confidence in their agreement. Time and distance from tonight will help too.

“Good,” Zenyatta says. “Did you enjoy the evening otherwise?”

“I did. Watching Carlos try to flirt with Sombra the whole night alone would have been worth it.” Genji grins at the memory. “And I spent some time talking to Lúcio after the show. That is why I am so late. I am sorry.”

“Genji, you cannot be late when I gave you no curfew. There is nothing to apologize for,” Zenyatta says, narrowing his eyes to give a mock glare. Genji stifles a laugh.

“Yes, Zenyatta,” Genji says. He wraps his hands back around the cup to soak in the warmth but doesn’t raise it.

“Who is Lúcio? I do not believe I have heard you mention him before.” Zenyatta reaches over to the teapot sitting on the table and refills both of their cups.

“I have seen him in the audience at various concerts before, but tonight was the first time I saw him perform. Pat knows him, he introduced us.” He can’t stifle the yawn that swallows the last word. Zenyatta chuckles. “So what were you researching?” Genji asks to stave off any comment.

“A new CPR device,” Zenyatta says and Genji tries to remember if he said that before. “Hopefully it will make its way to our department soon. But I will tell you about it some other time. You should go to bed while you are tired.” He unfolds his legs and stretches, gathering up the cups and teapot. Genji tries to help only to be waved away from the cleanup. 

Failing to suppress another yawn, Genji lets himself be shooed through the small kitchen and into his room. He doesn’t bother to turn on the light, tossing his phone across onto his bed. He’s tired enough that he considers following it, but he feels disgusting after spending the night in a club. A shower is in order. He goes to grab clean clothes from the stack on the washer.

As he turns, he slams his foot into something metal and knocks it into the wall.

“What the hell?” Genji mutters, hopping on one foot to fumble for the light switch. He doesn’t remember leaving anything metal laying around. Certainly not something that big and weighty. 

The light flicks on while he’s still groping along the wall and Genji squints in the sudden brightness. He barely registers Zenyatta standing in the doorway, one hand on the light switch and the other holding up his phone. The metal contraption he must have kicked immediately arrests his attention. 

It’s a cage, tucked into the corner by the washer and dryer. Black masked eyes blink sleepily at him from the hammock at the top. His stubbed toe must have woken the creature up.

He’d be convinced he’s dreaming, but the pain shooting through his foot negates that. 

Genji dives towards the cage, lifting the little ferret out with an abundance of care. It comes to full alertness in his hands, crawling up his arms and across his shoulders. He laughs and reaches up to rub behind its ears. Then he sticks his other arm back into the cage to pull out one of the ball toys scattered across the bottom. He flicks it across the room and the ferret charges down his arm in hot pursuit. 

Genji looks up to find Zenyatta grinning, positioning his phone to capture the entire room. “Happy birthday,” he says, wearing one of the widest smiles Genji’s ever seen him produce. 

“I cannot believe it, thank you! But I thought…” Genji swallows, mind racing. He’s grateful beyond belief, there’s no question. But what is he going to do with the ferret while he’s gone? He’s planning on traveling for at least a year. Will it handle Zenyatta’s crazy schedule after all?

“This gift is not just from me.” Zenyatta walks into the room and holds out his phone. Genji can now see the ongoing video call. Gabe’s face stares back at him from the screen. 

Genji takes the phone and grins. “Hello, Gabe.” He hears the ball rattle and tilts his head, catching sight of the ferret as it bats its toy around the room. It looks like it’s determined to bring it back towards Genji. 

“Hi, kid,” Gabe says, voice rough with sleep. But Genji can see the smile threatening to break loose. “Have a good birthday?”

“Yes.” Genji’s cheeks are starting to hurt from the force of his smile. “This is amazing, thank you so much!” Gabe gives him a nod but Genji gets distracted as the ferret gives up on smacking the ball and tries to open its jaw wide enough to pick it up instead. Zenyatta reaches over from his spot on the floor and flicks the toy, sending the ferret scampering away again. It tumbles overtop the ball and squirms around to right itself. 

“Now,” Gabe says, “Zenyatta told me your concern was about leaving for a year, right?” That draws Genji’s attention back in an instant. 

“Yes,” he says, biting his lip. “But I can cut my trip short if it becomes a problem, this it worth—“

“We have something else in mind,” Zenyatta says, hands darting out to snatch the ferret before it can sink its teeth into the strings of the guitar in the corner. He sets it back on Genji’s shoulder and gives his arm a pat. Genji gives him a grateful smile, running a finger across the soft fur. Perhaps he should spend tomorrow ferret-proofing the house while Zenyatta is at work. 

“So long as it gets along with ‘Keep and the devil cat, it’ll stay here while you’re gone,” Gabe says. Genji gapes at the phone and Gabe shrugs. “We’re already living in lockdown mode from Reaper. The house is pretty much bomb proof. And believe me, it’ll get socialized.”

Genji is stunned. “What?” he manages.

“Ferrets apparently travel well. Bring it by and the three can get used to each other,” Gabe goes on, but Genji is still stuck on the offer. Really?

Zenyatta lays a steadying hand on Genji’s shoulder around the ferret and Genji leans into it. “You have everything it should need for some time. Including a harness for you to begin your adventures.” Zenyatta gestures behind him and Genji twists to see some new shelves installed above the cage. When did all of this get done? 

“Thank you.” Genji looks back down at the phone and leans a little closer to Zenyatta. “I mean it. Words cannot express…thank you.”

Zenyatta squeezes his shoulder as Gabe finally smiles and says, “You’re welcome, kid. And name the damn thing, will you? Calling it ‘the ferret’ just takes too damn long.”

Genji smiles. “Haku. I am naming it Haku.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> zenyatta: *internal screeching*  
> zenyatta: *stonefaced* how was your night
> 
> We'll admit, neither of us have been to an EDM show. Nari's been to plenty of concerts and was perpetually scrubbing X's off her hands until she turned 21, but not an EDM one. Sorry if it's totally different? What is it with these characters only doing the one thing we've never done, ugh.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for all the comments. We never expected how much we'd look forward to hearing all the yelling. =D
> 
> Fun fact, initially Nari tried to start this chapter with Genji getting home and just telling Zenyatta what happened at the concert. El said nope. So here, have 7000 words of excess drama. Incidentally, since we are way too invested in this au, we've started making floor plans! You can see Zenyatta's weird little house [here](http://eledhiel13.tumblr.com/post/163870719560/oooh-now-i-remember-wanted-to-post-this-floor)!
> 
> If you're also wondering what Zenyatta is researching, it's called ResQCPR. If you thought normal CPR was a workout, it's got nothing on this thing. No idea if LA County EMS uses it yet but Nari's area does, and the results are awesome if tiring.
> 
> And just in case you guys were wondering if you're having an impact on us, you'll be pleased to note that some comments have made us rethink a few plot points. Direct effect being we have in fact moved up The Shimada Reunion. Not telling where it was or where it's going now, but you're now getting it sooner and it does work better. So thanks!


	23. the morning after, killer aliens, spooky driveways

Jesse wakes before Hanzo for the first time that morning. He's up far earlier than he needs to be, hours before he's slated to meet up with Lena and the others. But his sleep had been troubled and he feels rested enough, so he violates his own principles and gets out of bed with the sun.

He texts a picture of the sunrise out his window to Genji, grinning to himself. He knows it will go unappreciated after the late night he'd probably enjoyed. 

Jesse takes his time getting ready, casting the occasional glance up to Hanzo's loft to make sure he's still present and breathing easily. Jesse is just settling down at his desk to get a little homework in when Hanzo's alarm goes off, startling him. A truly heartfelt groan emanates from the blanket pile and the alarm cuts off right away. Jesse chuckles a little to himself. 

He turns back in surprise when Hanzo starts moving. Jesse watches him haul himself to the ladder slats with halting movements, eyes squeezed shut. Jesse pops to his feet and grabs the aspirin and a water bottle. He stands ready to hand them over as Hanzo makes his shaky descent, combat boots still tightly laced to his feet. That can’t have been comfortable to sleep in. Hanzo takes the handful and downs the pills on autopilot. Then he frowns at Jesse, as if trying to remember something important.

Jesse readies himself for the weight of last night's conversation to resettle across Hanzo's shoulders. But instead, Hanzo's eyes widen in panic and he lunges for his phone, steadying himself on his desk as he almost wobbles past it. He stares at the time. Then he turns and stares at Jesse with bloodshot eyes.

"What?" Jesse asks, a little thrown.

"I am not late," Hanzo says, like it's a fact he didn't expect. Jesse blinks. Hanzo waves at him, a complicated gesture that would probably be a little more expressive if he weren't so hungover. "You are up. But I am not late."

Jesse huffs and rolls his eyes, smiling a little. "Yeah, I'm up. Late for what?"

"My shift," Hanzo says, looking back down at his phone. Then he squeezes his eyes shut, like he's waiting for the world to stop spinning. 

Jesse raises an eyebrow even if Hanzo's not in any position to notice. "At the shop? No way you're goin', not after last night. You might want to call in sick."

Hanzo grimaces. Then he steels himself and moves over to his dresser, collecting a fresh long sleeved black shirt and pair of dark pants to replace the set he'd slept in. Jesse seriously doubts he owns any other type of clothing. "I cannot," Hanzo says. Jesse opens his mouth but Hanzo shakes his head, then makes a grab for the dresser to stabilize himself. "I must go. I need the money."

Jesse bites his tongue at that, settling against the top of his desk. No family, no financial help, right. "Then you might want to take the aspirin bottle with you," he says. "And maybe some ear plugs."

"I have none," Hanzo says. But one corner of his mouth quirks up even as he squints at Jesse. "I will put napkins in my ears if I must."

Jesse laughs, trying to tamp down on the volume as Hanzo winces. "That'll be a sight."

Hanzo pauses as he gets to the bathroom, one hand on the door frame. He looks back at Jesse. The furrow deepens between his brows and concern lines his face as he says, "Last night."

Jesse straightens his spine but tries to keep his expression relaxed. He sets his palms against the edge of the desk and leans on them, affecting nonchalance. "Yeah. You drank a bit more than you should've, but I bet you figured that part out yourself."

Hanzo flinches, squeezing his eyes shut again. "Yes. I have." He opens them slowly, glancing over to his loft. "Did you...?"

Jesse shrugs, keeping his voice light. "Got you back down without fallin' down the stairwell, yeah. Had a few close calls gettin’ up into the loft, especially since you wouldn’t let me help you outta your boots. But you weren't no trouble, don't worry about it.”

Hanzo nods, carefully. "I apologize, regardless. But," he swallows, clearing his throat. Jesse points to the water bottle so Hanzo takes an obedient sip. "But before that," he continues, "you came up. You sat with me."

"I did," Jesse says. He won't lie to himself, he's nervous about how Hanzo will take the length and breadth of their conversation. But there's no sense dodging this bullet. "We talked a bit. How much do you remember?"

Hanzo frowns at him. Jesse fidgets in place.

"You called me darling," Hanzo says slowly. Jesse's heart stops. "And you told me I have a stick up my ass." 

"I—" Jesse gapes, bottom dropping out from his stomach. He buries his face into his hands and groans. "'Course that's the only thing you remember."

But he hears Hanzo laugh, the sound of it soft but ringing clear. Jesse peeks through his fingers to see the small smile on his face, eyes twinkling even through their squint. "And I remember we talked a great deal about something I have never shared with anyone. So," Hanzo pauses and executes a very small bow, likely all his head will let him. "Thank you."

"Any time," Jesse says, floored. He lets an answering smile spread across his face. "I mean it."

Hanzo nods and disappears into the bathroom. Jesse slumps back against his desk and heaves a sigh, heart fluttering. The sudden chime from his phone startles him and he jumps, tearing his gaze away from the bathroom door. Before he can even get a hand on it, it goes off again. He grabs it as a third alert comes in. The chimes start overlapping as he tries to unlock it.

The screen floods with picture after picture of an adorable ferret. Jesse’s smiles so hard his cheeks immediately ache as he tries to take in Genji’s barrage, paging through close ups of the cute little face and scenes of it tangled in Genji’s hair and draped across his shoulders. The video of it somersaulting over a toy like some kind furry hoop makes him bark out a laugh.

> sent >> so i see what you were up to last night

This must have been what Gabe had so cryptically referred to. Genji won’t have slept a wink, if they’d had this waiting for him at home. Jesse’s surprised he waited until he received a sign of life before unleashing his deluge.

The little typing indicator pops up but the bathroom door opens before the message comes through and distracts him. Hanzo emerges, yanking his damp hair up into its customary ponytail and somehow looking much more human. His eyes are still bloodshot, but there’s color in his cheeks and he no longer looks like a stiff breeze could topple him.

“How long you workin’ today?” Jesse asks, setting his phone aside and watching Hanzo gather his things.

“Until six.” 

Jesse looks at the clock and cringes. Ten hours in a bustling coffee shop on top of a hangover? Sounds like hell to him. “Wanna join us for dinner after the game?”

Hanzo starts to shake his head but halts mid-motion, his free inky lock of hair sweeping into his eye. He brushes it back with a dismissive flick. “Perhaps some other time. I must complete the work I should have done last night.” He gets the door open but he doesn’t take any steps into the hall. Instead, he takes a deep breath and makes a precise turn back to face Jesse. “But thank you. Have a good day, Jesse,” he says. 

Hanzo makes his escape while Jesse sits there staring after him, mouth working soundlessly around the return of well wishes he wants to make. It feels like the words are lodged in his chest anyway, tangled up with the warm rush of affection doing cartwheels inside his rib cage. 

Jesse forces his jaw shut with a snap and gets to his feet. He takes a few aimless steps but the next chime draws him back to his phone. He picks it up, absently shoving his physics book aside. He’s not getting anything done this morning.

> carrot-top >> HIS NAME IS HAKU  
>  carrot-top >> I LOVE HIM I WOULD DIE FOR HIM  
>  carrot-top >> THIS IS THE BEST BIRTHDAY EVER

The messages are followed up by six more pictures of the ferret and Jesse laughs. 

> sent << that is the cutest damn thing i’ve ever seen
> 
> carrot-top >> he found your present too  
>  carrot-top >> when I saw this I almost died from cuteness  
>  carrot-top >> are you ready for this
> 
> sent << ready

The next picture shows the teddy bear Jesse’d bought him, outfitted in its ninja costume down to the little plush shuriken sewn to its paw. Haku is curled around it, head pillowed between the bear’s ears and tail coiled around its legs. He looks like he’s giving it a hug. 

Jesse can’t help it; he coos out loud. He immediately saves the picture as his lock screen. 

> sent << i wasn’t ready
> 
> carrot-top >> I WARNED YOU!!!  
>  carrot-top >> ok I need to go ferret-proof this house  
>  carrot-top >> I was also not prepared for this  
>  carrot-top >> he is DEVIOUS and I love him
> 
> sent << a match made in heaven  
>  sent << go hug him for me
> 
> carrot-top >> you got it!!!

Jesse pockets his phone, working his jaw to stretch out his sore cheek muscles. He still can’t stop grinning so it doesn’t do much good. He gives his stack of textbooks one last listless glance and decides breakfast is a far better option. At the very least, coffee.

He squints over at the electric kettle sitting innocently on the shelf. Maybe it would be worth it to get a French press or something for the room. It would save him a few trips to the cafeteria, at least. 

No way around it for the moment. He shoulders a serape and turns to leave, but his eyes fall on the aspirin bottle still sitting atop Hanzo’s dresser when he gets near the door. Damn, he must have forgotten it. Jesse bites his bottom lip and comes to a quick decision, swiping the bottle. He backtracks and grabs a few packets of the tea Hanzo drinks the most, for good measure.

Jesse swings through the cafeteria and collects a few portable breakfast items, putting his serape to good use once again. Hanzo may not have been late this morning, but he was still pretty quick getting out the door. Jesse’d bet good money Hanzo didn’t have time for breakfast, which is not going to help his hangover. He has no idea what kind of discount the shop offers but if Hanzo’s pinching pennies, he might forgo the experience entirely if left to himself. On the other hand, Jesse’s got plenty of time to drop off some food that won’t cost him a dime instead.

The line is out the door when he arrives. Jesse considers waiting in it to get his own coffee, but decides against it. Reinhardt always brings plenty, no sense making more work for them. He pushes his way around the line and through the door, a little surprised to see Mei at the counter. Did Hanzo call in sick after all?

Jesse spots him in the next moment, hunched over next to the espresso machine making drinks. Jesse makes a face. That won’t be easy on the ears. He can also tell at a glance that Hanzo’s less practiced at it than Mei is, a little less efficient. Sure explains the line, long even for an early morning. He wonders for exactly one second why they switched before he pictures a hung over Hanzo dealing with people all day. Jesse nods to himself. This is far safer for everyone involved.

He’s reluctant to bother Hanzo so he sidles up alongside the register, waiting for a break in the customers. When she turns to him, he gives her a smile and nods down toward Hanzo. “He forgot his breakfast,” Jesse says and hands her the bundle. Mei nods and sets it behind the counter. 

“Thanks,” she mouths and hands him a large cup. “On the house,” she adds when he starts to protest, waving him away from the register with a satisfied smile. 

He sighs and accepts the offer, tipping his hat. “See you later?”

Mei shakes her head, ringing up a customer. "I'm not off until two," she says as the next steps up. She gives Jesse one last wave before returning her full attention to the register. He leaves her to it, clutching his gift. He steps down to the other end and starts filling it with coffee, sneaking a look at Hanzo while he waits. Hanzo is keeping his head down, calling out the drinks with the bare minimum volume required to be heard over the espresso machine. He must not notice Jesse at all.

Jesse practices some extreme self-restraint and walks away without distracting him. 

He hums to himself as he makes his way to the still mostly-empty parking lot, dotted here and there with a few stray cars. He can see some groups already set up and getting the jump on their tailgates, though it seems pretty early to Jesse for a game that doesn't start until three. He chuckles to himself; it's not like he can talk, strolling through the lot himself well before the ten o'clock start Lena proposed. Sure enough, it doesn't take him long to spot Reinhardt's truck and he alters course to meet it. 

A long folding table floats up out of the truck bed seemingly of its own volition, but as soon as Jesse comes abreast of it he can see Reinhardt underneath. He holds it over his head with zero apparent effort as he looks between a few spots. Jesse climbs up and picks up a couple chairs with his free hand, bumping Reinhardt's shoulder in greeting as he follows. 

"Ah, good morning! Thank you, over there please," Reinhardt says, voice booming across the lot without the backdrop of a crowd to absorb the noise. He nods over to the one chair already set up as he starts propping up the table legs. 

"You got it," Jesse says. He doesn't realize the chair isn't empty until it groans, the bundle of giant pink sweatshirt he'd mistaken for a bunched up blanket shifting and spilling long brown hair over the chair's arm. A young girl tilts her head back, revealing bug-eyed pink sunglasses and a scrunched up pout.

"There is nothing good about this morning, hal-abeoji," she moans. 

"Nonsense!" Reinhardt says, grin fond. "This day brings us the chance to meet new people and have lots of fun. This is a good morning, indeed."

"It's too early for new people," the girl says, resolute. "And there is nothing good about _any_ morning, ever."

Jesse laughs. "I agree with that. No idea why I'm awake before noon, myself." The girls gives him a thumbs up without raising her head, other hand clutched tightly around a thermos. 

"You two are hopeless," Reinhardt says with a dramatic shake of his head. "Hana, this is Jesse. And Jesse, meet my Enkelin, Hana here." He gestures between them with one hand while righting the table with the other, coming over and giving Jesse a hug so big he drops the chair he's trying to set up.

Hana pulls her sunglasses down to squint over them at Jesse. "Hi," she says, sounding suspicious. "Am I honestly not awake right now or are you actually wearing a cowboy hat?"

"It's always the hat," Jesse says in a good-natured grumble. "But yeah, I am. Why're you askin'?"

"Because I would like to not be awake right now," Hana says, draping her free arm across her forehead with a flourish.

"And here I brought you to help," Reinhardt says, completing his show of disappointment with his giant hands on his hips.

"You've got me instead," Jesse grins. He drops his hat over Hana's face. "Here, go back to sleep."

"Yes!" Hana's cheer is muffled through the leather. She curls back up right away and doesn't move again, so Jesse chuckles and goes to help Reinhardt with a cooler. He assumes she really has gone to sleep until he comes back over to finish setting up the chairs and hears her say, "This smells weird."

"You complainin'?" he asks, flicking the brim. "I can take it back..." He starts to lift the hat but she clamps her arm overtop it and holds it down. 

"Don't you dare, this darkness is perfect," she says. 

"Then you can live with it," Jesse laughs and moves back to help with the next item, leaving her to her nap. But Reinhardt hands him a warm packet of foil instead and grabs his shoulders, pointing him toward an empty chair with a gentle push.

"This is the last of it. Go sit," Reinhardt says. He resumes setting up his line of crock pots and threading their cords behind the table. Jesse can't tell what they're plugged in to but their lights come to life right away. Must be some kind of tailgating secret he's not privy to. He shrugs and picks his coffee cup back up, taking a long gulp. 

By the time he finishes his breakfast sandwich, he notices Hana's gone slack out of the corner of his eye. Must be asleep for real. Jesse reaches over to gently extract her thermos and sets it on the ground beside her chair. Reinhardt chuckles. "I don't know how she is not awake, there is plenty of sugar in that hot chocolate. Perhaps she is immune to it, after all."

"Or she just crashed already," Jesse says. He braces his hands on the chair and means to stand, he really does. But the warm meal in his belly and his early morning feel like they're catching up with him and he can't muster the will to move. "No Ana today?" he asks, trying to tamp down on a yawn.

"She has to work today, as must Hana's guardian. So I brought her with me in Ana's place," Reinhardt says, stirring one of the pots. He gives the both of them a fond smile. "I will wake you both when the others arrive. Everything is done for now."

Jesse slumps back into his chair with a grateful nod. He throws one arm over his eyes in place of his hat and drifts off with little fuss. He's jolted back into wakefulness when a body drops into his lap and an elbow drives the air out of his lungs. He yelps and wheezes, sunlight flooding his eyes as his hat lifts away. He has no idea when it returned to him, blinking up into Lena's cheerful grin and trying to get his bearings.

"He lives!" she exclaims. Hana stands just behind her, giggling. 

Jesse groans and swipes his hat from her hand, dropping it back over his face. "Mornin'," he says.

Lena shoves it up into its usual place atop his head. "Morning? Barely, mate. We let you sleep forever." She preens a little, buffing her nails on her shirt. "You should admire my restraint."

"You? Restraint?" Jesse chuckles. "Hana took pity on me and held you back, didn't she?"

Hana grins, tossing what looks like a beanbag into the air and catching it. "Of course I did. Mornings are evil." Jesse holds out an arm across Lena's shoulders and Hana bumps her fist against his. "But you're my partner next, so now you have to get up."

"Sheesh, slave driver," Jesse pretends to grumble, poking Lena in the side to prompt her to get off. "What're we playin'?"

"Cornhole. Come on, Angela and Fareeha are waiting on us," Hana says. She snags one edge of Jesse's serape and hauls him across their spot, pausing mid-step to point one imperious finger at him. "I hope you're better at this than Lena was, they've been killing everybody."

"I'll do my best," Jesse says with a tip of his hat. Hana grins and moves to stand next to Angela. Fareeha leaves her conversation with Zarya to come alongside him, giving him an elbow to the ribs and a sharp grin as they start. Jesse must be better, or at least luckier, than Lena'd been because he helps Hana squeak out a win just before Reinhardt announces the chili is ready. 

When he sees Fareeha readily abandon the game at the promise of chili, despite her competitive nature, Jesse's hopes rise. Maybe Reinhardt's will in no way resemble the faux version the dorms produce. He'd kill for a decent bowl of the real stuff, any day. 

Hana pauses in front of him and steps out of the way as the rest crowd over to the food table, pulling her ringing phone from her hoodie pocket. She answers it and starts wandering away so Jesse keeps an eye on her, until he notices Reinhardt is watching her like a hawk. So Jesse leaves him to it and grabs a bowl, loading it up with cheese and onions. He drops into the chair between Angela and Zarya.

"We got any plans for Halloween?" he asks before taking his first bite. Spices explode across his tongue, heat flooding his mouth, and he groans in pure delight. This is the closest thing he's had to Gabe's cooking outside of home and he can't get the next spoonful in fast enough. He wonders if he'll be able to talk Reinhardt out of the leftovers, though that requires a place to put them. Maybe Lena and Fareeha are on to something with their mini-kitchen set up.

"I heard there's a party—" Fareeha starts before cutting off, looking startled. Jesse follows her gaze and sees Hana stomp back over, expression miserable. She thrusts her phone into Reinhardt's hand and throws herself into an empty chair. 

"He wants to talk to you," she scowls, before curling her legs inside her sweatshirt and yanking the hood over her head.

Reinhardt frowns and steps away toward his truck. It doesn't do much to dampen his volume. "Hello? Jack, what's wrong?" The rest of them exchange glances but stay quiet, not wanting to interrupt. Only Lena moves, leaning over to wrap an arm around Hana and whisper into her ear. Hana nods and tilts sideways to better get under the offered arm. "Ah, so this is why she is looking like the world is ending," Reinhardt goes on with a soft glance at the pink hoodie ball. "Of course, you do not need to ask. I will take her and defend her with my life, you have my word!" 

That at least raises a snort from Hana. The group relaxes a little as Reinhardt grins and drifts back towards the circle of chairs. "Still lame," Hana mumbles but she pushes the hood back.

Reinhardt gives her a shrug. "Of course," he says again into the phone before pulling it away from his ear and handing it back. "He was called away. I heard the tones in the background." Hana pockets the phone but says nothing. Lena removes her arm, letting Reinhardt replace it and pull Hana toward him. "Now, now, bienchen. You know he would like nothing more than to take you. Please don't blame him if his work will not let him go."

"I'm not," Hana sighs, swiping at her eyes. "Don't grow up, it's a trap, right?"

"Exactly," Reinhardt says. He taps her on the nose. "You and I will go and have lots of fun. And we will meet this famous axe murderer of yours, and send Jack lots of pictures with him so he may have himself a panic. Okay?"

Hana outright laughs. "Sounds good." Reinhardt nods decisively and pulls her up and over to the chili table.

The group is quiet for another second before Angela clears her throat and looks to Fareeha. "You were saying something about a party?"

"Oh, right," Fareeha says. "It's Halloween night, over at one of the frat houses. Some of my squad members were talking about it the other day and they said to spread the word. Sounds like it could be interesting.”

"Sound smashing, love," Lena says, brightening up. "Hey, any of you lot know where to find a good haunted house? Emily and I are looking for one."

The others shake their heads and Jesse washes down his bite before nodding. "I do. My family sets one up in the driveway every year," he says, smirking. "It's usually better than most commercial ones you'll find, just not as long. My sister swears this'll be the best year yet."

Lena blinks at him. "At your house?"

Jesse nods. "I'm headin' over tomorrow to check it out. Anyone want to tag along?"

The others shake their heads, citing things like projects and work. Angela in particular looks disappointed to miss out. But Lena just stares at him. "How are you getting there?"

"Just where do you think I'm from, darlin'?" Jesse chuckles.

Lena groans, clapping one hand over her eyes. "You're not from Texas, are you?"

\--

“Are you trying to impress me?” Jack growls into the headset when the axe murderer saves his character on screen. Hana giggles next to him, hitting buttons faster than Jack can process as she attacks their objective.

“Oh, yeah!” Lúcio laughs through the headset, his character moving forward to help Hana.

CyborgNinja laughs. “Behind you, Soldier Dad.” 

Jack growls at the nickname, the kids having taken to it with gusto ever since Hana’d first jokingly called him dad hours ago. He swings his character around, too late to defend himself. He sighs and clicks over to death spectate Hana while he waits for respawn. 

“D.Va, on your left!” hacktheplanet yells.

“I got it, I got it.” Hana bites her bottom lip, taking out what looks like an entire army that tries to flank her. Her maneuver pretty much secures them the match just as Jack gets back into the fight. Shouts and cheers echo through the headset and Hana gives him a palm-stinging high five.

Jack almost misses the series of buzzes his phone makes on the coffee table over the ruckus. He frowns and tosses his controller down, giving the group a quick, “I’m out,” before peeling off his headset. He squints at the screen, but the number doesn’t look familiar.

“Hello,” he answers, ducking into the kitchen to avoid distracting Hana.

“Mr. Morrison?” The woman on the other end sounds vaguely familiar but Jack can’t place her voice. 

“Speaking,” Jack replies, leaning against the fridge so he can see around the corner and watch Hana play.

“I’m sorry for calling so late,” she says and Jack glances at the stove, rubbing at his eyes when the numbers blur. He blinks hard and looks again. Shit, he didn’t realize how late it is. “This is Ellen Rogers,” she goes on and Jack blinks again. Who? “You expressed interest in our rental suite.”

Oh right, the basement apartment. “Okay?” 

This can’t be good if she’s calling this late.

Sure enough, she gets straight to it. “I’m sorry about this, but I’m afraid the suite isn’t going to be available to rent in November. We had a family emergency come up, and we’ll need the space.” Jack tosses his glasses onto the counter and buries his face in his free hand. Fucking hell. Just when he thought they’d get a break. “I really am very sorry about this. I wanted to let you know as soon as possible.”

“Yeah,” Jack finally says, slumping against the counter. The last thing he wants to do is start looking for apartments again, and on a shortened deadline no less. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Of course,” Ellen says, a hair too chipper for Jack’s taste. “Good luck with your search!”

“Thanks,” Jack says shortly and hangs up. He stands there with shoulders slumped, just staring at the blurs around him. 

He hears Hana groan theatrically and something plastic clatters onto the coffee table. It spurs Jack back into action and he picks up his glasses, striding back to the couch. He flops down next to her and sinks into the back, exhaustion overcoming him.

Hana glances at him, brows furrowed. She yanks off her headset. “You okay?”

Jack musters enough energy to shake his head.

“Was it CPS?” Hana turns to face him, sitting sideways. She sounds worried.

“No!” Jack levers himself into a better sitting position and looks over. He tries to give her a reassuring smile. She wrinkles her nose and he sighs. “No, we’re fine there.”

Hana bites her bottom lip. “Then who was it?” 

“Just the apartment we saw last week,” Jack mumbles. “We’re not getting it. They had some family emergency or whatever.” Jack slips a hand beneath his glasses and rubs at his eyes again. They’re starting to ache.

“Okay,” Hana says slowly. “So we keep looking. We still have time.” She picks the controller back up but doesn’t rejoin the game, just fiddles with the controls.

“We have a few weeks,” Jack agrees, knowing he should try to be positive and reassure her. But he just doesn’t have the energy. His limbs feel like they’re made of lead. 

Hana picks her headset back up. “Me and Soldier Dad are out for the night. Have fun, guys,” she says. She pauses for a second, mouth quirking at what she must hear through the line. “Sure. Let me know if you’re still on tomorrow. Night!” She sets it back down and puts the console into sleep mode. 

Jack hauls himself off the couch and starts putting the controllers away, dragging his feet. 

“Hey,” Hana says and grabs his wrist as he moves by. “So we get some sleep and start again tomorrow. There’s gotta be spots we haven’t checked yet. Maybe we’ll have better luck if we look around online. I mean,” she says, giving him a sly grin, “if we can get your brick to work in the first place.” She reaches out one toe to poke his ancient laptop where it sits on the end table.

Jack chuckles. “Sounds like a plan.” He tugs Hana into a grateful hug and herds her off towards the bathroom. He then stands at the end table, contemplating his laptop while the standard bed preparation noises clink and gurgle from the back of the apartment. 

Then he decides, fuck it. If he really did piss off that blogger too badly with his voice chat overreaction, the guy can just ignore him. But maybe he’ll have some bright ideas.

> From: soldier76@gmail.com  
>  To: elsegador@flordelamuerte.com  
>  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Advice needed
> 
> Okay. So you aren’t to blame for internet axe murderers. I was worried, but the guy seems okay. So far. We’ll see what happens at first contact.
> 
> But any chance you have some advice on finding an apartment quick?

\--

"Who the hell are you and what've you done with Jesse?" Lena barks, one hand still gripping the door to her dorm room. She puts on a comically serious expression, face scrunched up and squinting so hard Jesse can't see her eyes at all. He laughs and holds out the paper cup in his hand as a peace offering. Lena drops the act right away and snatches the cup, popping the lid and plunging straight in. "Never mind, you can stay," she says when she surfaces, wearing whipped cream like a goatee.

"So that's all a stranger has to do to be welcomed with open arms, huh?" he asks, leaning against the doorframe as Lena ducks inside to pick up a few things. She shoves him into the hallway to lock the door, bomber jacket slung over one shoulder. 

"Around here? Absolutely," she chirps as they head for the elevators. "But seriously, mate," Lena continues once they hit the ground floor and start meandering toward the bus stop. "I fully expected to be dragging you out of bed. I had a plan and everything! There was a bucket of ice involved, and possibly an air horn." 

"Oh, is that all?" Jesse smirks. "You've got a reputation to uphold, after all. What else were you goin' to do?"

She shrugs, looking smug. "Classified."

"Lord help us all," Jesse laughs. "Our dorm gets enough structural stress from Jamie and Mako, it don't need you on top of things."

Lena just chugs the last of her drink and waves an airy hand, looking unconcerned as the bus pulls up. Jesse picks a seat in the back and slumps into it, propping his feet against the row before him. Lena plops in the next seat and twists up to sit cross-legged. She shoots him an expectant look.

"Halloween," Jesse says very seriously, "is the single most important holiday in my household. This is the one thing I will get up early for with no fuss, hands down."

Lena looks delighted. "So what you're saying is if I want you up for something else, I just tell you it's Halloween-related?"

"That has a fair chance at workin', yes," he says with a solemn nod.

"Damn," Lena cackles. "The secret weapon is revealed! Wouldn't have guessed it, gotta say." She squints at him again. "Though I should've, considering your fashion choices."

"Hey," he protests with no heat, shoving her just hard enough to topple her. She returns the gesture with a good-natured prod to his thigh with her ridiculous crocks. "Besides, like you're one to talk," he says, tapping them. She squawks. They only taper down their impromptu wrestling match once they start getting stern looks from the driver. "It started with Gabe," Jesse says, looking down to straighten out his serape. Lena flicks the brim of his hat out of her way and settles her head against his shoulder. "He infected the rest of us over the years. You'll see, he's pretty much born for this holiday."

"I can't wait," Lena says with a grin. "Though I'll admit, mate, I'm also terrified. Be prepared to lose your hearing when I scream like a banshee the whole way through."

Jesse laughs. "Sounds like we could make you part of the attraction, huh?" She punches him in the shoulder. "Don't worry," he adds, patting the top of her head with his free hand and flattening her wild hair. "I'll protect you."

"Thanks, but you won't need to," Lena grins up at him. "I only started going through these things for Emily's sake, and she's used to me. Think she likes it," she finishes with a wink. 

Jesse laughs. “Oh, yeah?” 

Lena pops up and gives him a vigorous nod. "Oh, mate, you've no idea. She goes absolutely mental for haunted houses, they're her favorite. You made a friend for life with this invite, just you wait and see." The bus rolls up to the stop closest to USC and Lena perks up, pointing out the window before he can answer. "Speak of the devil!"

Jesse looks over his shoulder to see a young woman getting up from the bus stop bench, brushing a wave of red hair over her shoulder and sending one end of her thin scarf along with it. She returns Lena's wave through the window but otherwise boards the bus in a fairly sedate manner. Jesse's not sure he gets the mental part, right up until she comes to a halt right in front of their seats and looms over them. She levels an intense look at Jesse and points one very firm finger at him.

"You," she says, voice low. 

"Yes, ma'am?" he says, eyebrows bouncing up under his hat. He'd be intimidated if Lena weren't giggling nonstop next to him. 

Emily spreads the rest of her fingers into a waiting high five and Jesse gives it to her. Lena grabs her wrist and tugs her down into the seat beside her as the bus lurches forward. Emily braces an elbow on Lena's shoulder and leans over her to address Jesse. "You are my new best friend," she says. "No returns or exceptions."

"Duly noted," Jesse says with a grin. 

Lena elbows him. "Told you, mate."

"I'm just hopin' it lives up to expectations now," Jesse laughs. "I'd hate to disappoint."

Emily flaps a long-fingered hand. "Is it a haunted house?" she asks, matter-of-fact.

"Well," Jesse shrugs, "more like haunted driveway and garage."

"But whatever it is, it's very definitely haunted, right?" Lena asks, sly smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

"Absolutely," Jesse laughs, picturing Gabe's unholy glee every time he gets to play the part of final boss.

"Then I'm satisfied," Emily says, sitting up straight and folding her hands primly in her lap. Then she cocks her head. "Is there a charge for it? I'll pay whatever it is, I don't care."

"Nope," Jesse says. "Only payments Gabe requires are unceasin' screams of terror."

"Oh, good," Emily says, feigning relief. "We have Lena, that should cover the three of us."

"Oi!" Lena protests, answering smile broad. Emily plants a messy kiss on her cheek and Jesse laughs. Lena jerks a thumb at Emily and gives a heartfelt sigh. "Jesse, this here's my lovely Emily. You can surely tell our love is supportive and unending."

"I gathered," Jesse smiles and tips his hat to her. "Jesse McCree."

Emily gives him a friendly nod before poking Lena in the side. "Excuse you, I almost lose an arm every time we go through these things. If that's not supportive, I don't know what is." She turns to Jesse with an artful expression of resignation. "Last time, my arm was numb for a week after."

"Don't act like you didn't know that was coming," Lena says, outraged posture undermined by her snickers. She turns to Jesse. "It was this two-story monstrosity back in London last year, I thought I was going to die." She drapes the back of one hand across her forehead, gazing into the middle distance as she slumps against Jesse's shoulder. "A life cut short, a candle extinguished before its time! A true tragedy."

"And yet the only casualty from that night was, as noted, my arm," Emily says with a fond eye roll.

"This one won't be too bad, right?" Lena sits up to scrutinize Jesse. He shrugs and she makes a face. "I mean, it's a driveway, right? How bad can that be?" She holds up one hand in front of her face and stares at it. "I think I'm shaking."

"That's probably the sugar," Jesse says. Lena concedes with a shrug and Emily laughs. "It usually ain't that bad," Jesse goes on, tapping a finger against his lip as he thinks through the years. "I mean, we don't let kids who look too young go through it, Zenyatta'll send them straight to the porch. But if an eight year old can handle it, you should be fine. Of course," he adds as soon as she starts to relax, "that's assumin' it'll be anything like years before. They tell me this year they've gone all out, so who knows."

Lena shoots him a look that's equal parts terror and exasperation. Emily looks positively gleeful.

They haven't managed to do much to reassure her by the time the bus finally pulls into their stop, and Emily and Jesse almost have to drag Lena off the bus as she pretends to dig in her heels. "Come on, girl," Jesse laughs, pulling her down the sidewalk by one wrist while she makes herself deadweight between them. Jesse would actually be concerned she doesn't want to do this if it weren't for her enormous smile. "What if I promised you a reward for goin' through it? I'll let you play with my dog, how's that sound?"

Lena shoots upright faster than he can blink, almost throwing Emily off-balance. "You have a dog?" she breathes, eyes so wide they sparkle. "Come on, you slow pokes! What's the hold up?" Then she sprints forward and leaves them in the dust.

Jesse gapes after her while Emily rights herself and straightens her scarf. Then she threads her arm through his elbow and tugs him into motion. They stroll after Lena at a much more sedate pace. "You said the magic word, mate. Out of curiosity, does she know the way?"

"Nope," he says and Emily laughs, bright and unrestrained. 

Sure enough, Jesse sees Lena halt at the corner up ahead. She glances back at them, radiating cheerful impatience. Jesse points in the right direction and she salutes him before sprinting off again. They follow this procedure for a few blocks until Jesse and Emily finally catch up with her at the last turn. Lena stands on the corner, mouth open as she stares down the street. They come up alongside her and take in the view for themselves. 

It's impossible to miss. The structure spans almost the entire length of the driveway, black-draped walls stretching near as high as the garage itself. The black station wagon sits at the only clear end, decked out to look like a hearse itself. Fog drifts out from cracks in the walls and billows from the entrance, curling around the car's tires like it's testing for weak points. Jesse grins. 

"That looks amazing," Emily whispers, reverent. Lena audibly gulps.

"Regrettin' anythin'?" Jesse asks her, trying to look serious and likely failing. 

She gives him a side eye. "I might take your dog through it with me," she grumbles. But she straightens up and is the first of them to stride towards it nonetheless. 

"Aw, babe," Emily says. She pats Lena's shoulder as she catches up. "You can have both my arms, I promise. I won't even complain." Lena spins around mid-step and kisses her soundly on the mouth.

Jesse is near enough the house to see the face Sombra makes from her perch on the porch swing and he gives her a wave. She returns it and gets to her feet, looking down and saying something he can't quite hear. A second later, Genji's green head pops up over the porch rail. He leaps nimbly to his feet, a ball of fur bundled up in his arms. Jesse gasps and sprints over, hurdling a tombstone or two. The girls are hot on his heels. 

"So that's Haku, huh?" he says as he mounts the porch. Genji grins like a proud father and props up the ferret for them all to see. Haku raises his head and blinks his little eyes at them just as the girls complete the circle. 

"That is the cutest thing I've ever seen!" Lena squeaks. 

Emily raises a hand but doesn't reach forward yet, looking first to Genji. "May I?"

"Certainly," he says, holding out his arms. Emily reaches out and rubs the spot between Haku's ear. He stretches up into her hand and she coos when he tries to grab the rings adorning most of her fingers. 

"I stand corrected," Lena says, gaze dreamy. She waves a hand to indicate the whole tableau. " _This_ is the cutest thing I've ever seen."

Genji pretends to preen. "I am glad you think that I am adorable. You are absolutely correct."

"That's not the word I would have picked," Sombra mutters. But she's not bothering to wipe the grin off her face. 

Jesse shakes his head and wraps one arm around her shoulders, only mildly surprised when she doesn't dislodge him. He points to each of them in turn and makes a quick round of introductions, though he can't say whether Emily's even paying attention. She does give a distracted wave when he mentions her name, so he'll assume she heard despite her single-minded attentions to the ferret. He reaches over to give it a scratch of his own and it bumps his finger with its nose. He grins. "Didn't realize you were bringin' him," he says to Genji. "He's even cuter in person."

"You may assume," Genji says, demeanor very serious, "that wherever I go from now on, there he will be also."

"I can't wait to see how you're going to explain that to your teachers," Sombra says, ducking out from under Jesse's arm to collect her laptop off the porch swing. 

Genji scoffs. "All I have to do is show them this face," he says, tilting his head to indicate his burden. 

"I'd buy that," Lena says with a decisive nod. 

"As someone going to school for education," Emily adds, still rubbing a furry ear, "I can verify that would definitely work."

"Yes!" Genji crows, pumping a fist with his free arm and giving the girls a blinding smile. "I knew that would be successful. Now, I understand you are all here for one purpose, is that correct?"

Lena nods. "To meet your pets. All the pets. No other reason." She turns to Jesse, expression comically hopeful. "You mentioned a dog?"

"Sure did," he says, jerking his head toward the haunted house. "Waitin' for you at the end of it. He's only visible if you go through first."

Lena pouts and Emily pats her shoulder. Genji laughs. "I promise there will be no loss of life inside," he says. "That is all I can promise, but hopefully it will be enough for you." Lena heaves a dramatic sigh and gives a resigned nod. "Very well," Genji says with a nod. "Would you like some lunch first? Or are you ready for your experience?"

Emily shakes her head, eyes now fixed on the end of the driveway with an almost hungry look. Lena gulps. "I'd rather not up and lose it right away, if it's all the same to you."

Jesse claps her on the shoulder. "Eyes on the prize, girl. Just think of the dog. There's a kitten in that house somewhere too, if you can find him."

Lena brightens. "I like cats. I like anything with fur on it, honestly. I'll find him, don't you worry."

"I can promise you he'll find you," Sombra says and shakes her head. "All you have to do is pick up something delicate that don't want him chewing on, he'll make a beeline for you." She turns and heads in through the open front door, calling back over her shoulder with a downright wicked smile, "Go ahead and get ready. I'll let the main attraction know it's show time."

Lena groans but doesn't resist as Jesse and Emily tug her toward the station wagon. Emily does give her a moment's reprieve when she detours to check out the hearse features. She points out all the little details from the black curtains bunched in the windows to the skeletal hands crawling up from the seats, making noises Jesse's more used to hearing from people fussing over a cute baby or something. He grins. The car he's used to, and it's a miracle Gabe doesn't keep it in that state year-round. He takes any excuse to bring Halloween with him wherever he goes.

So he stands at the entrance and tries to peek inside while the girls are distracted, fog roiling around his ankles. It doesn't look too different from years before, though he can't see very far in. But part of him is starting to get a little nervous, nonetheless. He suspects even now the lot of them only have an inkling of what Sombra can really do with a computer, and he gets the sense they're about to experience the effects in visceral detail.

"Now," Genji says as he follows them over and stops at the door. He gives them a bow as the girls come up to stand at Jesse's elbow. "Please keep in mind you are test subjects." Lena's eyes pop open at the words. Genji doesn't stop, affecting an air somewhere between disinterested professor and overworked theme park ride operator. "This is untested, by anyone that hasn't had a hand in building it. Thus, we will require you to take notes and complete a survey at the end." 

Lena raises a hand and he points to her as if calling on a student. "Will you accept mindless blubbering as a response?"

"Yes," Genji says. "Concurrent hugging of furry creatures optional."

Lena breathes a theatrical sigh of relief. "Thank goodness, mate." She latches firmly onto Emily's arm and Emily gives her a smile that looks only marginally reassuring. "Well, I guess this is it. Nice knowing you lot." She turns to eye Jesse. "You first?"

"Oh, hell no," Emily says. Her grin turns downright feral and she plunges through the doorway, dragging a squawking Lena in her wake. 

Genji throws back his head and laughs. Jesse shakes his head but he’s chuckling too. "I like them already," Genji smirks. "Now, get in there with them!"

"Yessir!" Jesse drops his hat on Genji's head to keep it safe and plows into the sudden dark. He stumbles a little, blinded for a moment by a few flashes of light, until he walks into something soft and leathery. Something that shrieks right into his ear. "Damn, girl!"

"Sorry," Lena laughs, breathless. "I thought something grabbed me—"

"Like this?" Emily cackles and there's a rustling of cloth scraping across leather, barely audible over the ambient creepy music. Lena screeches again, dissolving into giggles in an instant. 

"Oh my God, my poor heart," she says, gripping the edge of Jesse's serape with a firm hand. At least, he hopes it's Lena. He can barely make out her shape as she clings to Emily with her other arm and drags him along. The floor is lined with indicator lights to direct them, but there's otherwise very little light. Barely even a peek of daylight. The construction is flawless.

But aside from the addition of music that seems to follow them and the added lights, it doesn't seem very different from years before. That is, right up until they hit the first corner and the sudden heart-stopping sound of footsteps on the ceiling grow close. Lena tenses up and Jesse opens his mouth to say something. He doesn't get a single word out before rusty hinges squeal just over their heads and a whole load of what feels like bones drops with a dry rattle. Skeletal fingers hang suspended like a cloud and brush through their hair and against their faces. Lena yowls and ducks, dragging them with her as Jesse can't help his shout of, "Holy fuck!" Emily cackles like she's having the best day of her life.

They right themselves in a fit of giggling and keep moving. Emily and Jesse have to drag Lena through the forest of skin-crawling cloth strips hanging from the ceiling, coarse and dusty like the caress of a mummy's bandages. These at least he remembers from last year, and he laughs as Lena squirms like she's trying to shake off a swarm of scarab beetles. Emily makes a show of brushing off her bomber jacket and kissing her cheek and Lena grins wildly at her. Then she threads her arms through both of their elbows and pulls Emily and Jesse on either side of her nonetheless.

They get around the next corner with renewed resolve, but just then a panel pops open behind them with a burst of the Psycho theme. The sudden spotlight illuminates a corpse-like mannequin holding up a knife as it falls forward, stopping just short of them as it reaches the end of its rope. The dirty clothes are spackled with what looks like blood and drops of liquid splatter the three of them from above. Jesse knows it's probably just water but the feeling is unnerving and he yelps right along with Lena. Even Emily screams a little, though she dissolves into laughter right away.

"This is way better than last year," Jesse says, a little breathless. He turns a stern look on the girls as they move on, though they probably can't see him very well. "Don't you tell Sombra I said that, now."

"I don't think I even remember my own name, mate," Lena says as she gasps for air, hanging between them like they're the only thing holding her up. 

"Come on, babe," Emily says and bounces her arm. "I've got you."

Lena sighs dramatically and pulls herself back upright. She makes a sweeping gesture with the arm still twined through Jesse's elbow, yanking him around. "Lead on then, love."

They survive a few more jump scares, punctuated by Lena's shrieks and Emily's cackles. Jesse's laughing so hard he's not sure whether he's more entertained by the house or by the girls. But he'll admit at this point even to Sombra's face that she's outdone him. He can't wait to get to Gabe.

The round another corner and end up in a small room, strobe lights flashing erratically upon their entrance. Spider webs drape from the ceiling in thick curtains, clinging to each wall. Lena squirms as soon as the first web brushes against her, moving back between Jesse and Emily for all the protection that offers. Jesse swings around, catching movement out of the corner of his eye. But the strobes make it hard to tell if it was real or just light induced. 

But then he jumps with a howl of his own when something starts crawling up his leg. Emily yelps and makes a sudden frantic swipe at her shoulder, shaking out her hair. But Lena’s scream as she does a full-body flail somehow overpowers them both, increasing to an intensity Jesse didn’t know was possible.

Jesse shakes his leg out, finally managing to dislodge what feels like a very realistic spider. He can’t get a good look at it through the strobe lights as it scurries back to a corner in a mechanical pattern, but he’s impressed. Sombra definitely wins.

Once they free themselves of the remaining spiders, they exit the room through a small tunnel-like section. They crawl through one after another, the walls somehow damp and slimy, with those unnerving footsteps drumming around them again. Emily emerges first and hauls Lena to her feet. Jesse tries to follow and runs straight into Lena's back when she stops dead. "What the hell is that?" she whispers, pointing.

Jesse follows her gaze and squints at the dark shape. He has a suspicion, but he's not about to ruin it for the girls. 

Emily leans closer to Lena, sacrificing her entire arm to a bear hug. "I think it's a coffin?" she says.

"Don't you go near it!" Lena says, holding her back and trying to keep Jesse from moving forward with a foot. 

"This should be it, Lena," Jesse chuckles. "Remember, dog therapy waitin' on you."

Lena takes a deep breath and gives a full body shudder, but Jesse can see her fighting a smile. "So here is where we die. Got it."

Emily plants an enormous kiss on her lips. "Does that give you the strength to soldier on?"

"You're damn right," Lena chirps, grinning fully now. 

"Then let's meet our maker," Emily laughs, high fiving Jesse over Lena's head. They turn together and approach the giant coffin with caution. 

It's propped upright against the back wall, surrounded by lumps that looks like mounds of dirt. What ambient light there is gleams dully on the tarnished silver fastenings, the scratched up cross etched into the top visible as little more than a darker patch. They step closer. Nothing happens. 

They take another step. Still nothing.

Jesse's starting to wonder if Gabe decided to take a nap. 

Emily moves up and reaches a hand out for the lid. Lena tries to tug her back, but she just pats her arm and keeps going. Her fingertips are bare centimeters from the lid when a bone-shaking bang echoes throughout the small room. Lena leaps back a good foot and Emily startles with her. When nothing further happens, Emily steps up again. The second bang happens when she's a good few inches from the latch but this time she only jumps. Jesse steps up alongside her and squints at the coffin. 

He and Emily exchange puzzled looks and he shrugs. She nods and resolutely turns back to it. But before Emily can make another move, the banging starts again. This time it oscillates between soft and deafening, coming from all sides like whatever's causing it is circling around the room. Jesse gapes, just now noticing the fog has really picked up and roils out from the mounds of dirt. This is new.

And so are the reverberating sounds of maniacal laughter, rising from all directions before centering in a crescendo on the coffin. Jesse jumps back and Emily actually follows, this time reaching out for Lena as they come to her. 

The sounds fade as suddenly as they came and everything is quiet, missing even the ambient music that had dogged their entire trip. The small room is filled with total silence besides the hissing of the fog machines and the three of them gape at each other. And then, before they can recover—

The coffin crashes open with a resounding wham, slamming into the wall as the deathly laughter boils out of the inky depths. That's enough to stop Jesse's heart right there, but then floodlights burst to life and present a vision of absolute terror. 

A specter of death leaps out of the coffin, arms outstretched and fingers tipped in gleaming claws. Black and purple feathers sweep down his arms and across the billowing expanse of his coat. And his face—the true mask of death. It's a skull-like bird, eyes honest-to-God glowing an unearthly purple with smoke misting from the sockets. A growl thunders from the sharp beak. He pauses to throw his head back and laugh, a spine-chilling cackle while the three of them shriek at his approach. 

"Death comes!" he chants in a gravelly rumble as Lena throws herself behind Emily, who stands frozen. She looks torn between terror and absolute delight. Jesse loses it and leans his hands on his knees, wheezing with adrenaline and laughter. "With candy," Gabe adds, producing candy bars from the pockets of his coat and offering them to the girls as he cackles. 

Emily puts a hand over her heart and beams at him. Lena peeks over her shoulder, gasping for breath with a shocked smile stretching her cheeks. "Oh my God," she whispers again, still clutching Emily's arm.

"Good lord," Jesse laughs, still bent over. "I knew that was comin' and you still scared the hell out of me."

"You knew that was coming?" Lena squawks, feigning outrage. She nonetheless takes the proffered candy with a wink. "You could have warned me, mate!"

"I told you it was the end," Jesse says as Gabe laughs, sounding a bit more normal this time.

"That was amazing," Emily whispers, delight still etched across her features as she accepts her treat. 

"Yeah?" Gabe asks, voice echoing through the mask. Daylight spills into the room when Genji opens the door to the yard, hidden by swaths of black fabric. Gabe’s costume is still terrifying even in the bright natural light. 

Lena recovers some of her wits when she catches sight of Peacekeeper rolling around in the grass, making a beeline for him. She stops before she gets there and holds out a hand, allowing him to sniff. When he clearly decides she's acceptable, she tackles him in a hug and he slobbers all over her face. "If anyone needs me, I'll be here for the next week. I've earned it!" she shouts from the lawn.

"Yes, you have," Emily says fondly as they follow her out. 

Genji stands beside the door, bouncing on his toes with an expectant expression. Sombra kneels next to him, the leash for Haku's harness looped lightly around her wrist as she flicks a ball through the grass for him to chase. She looks up and gives Jesse a grin that's smug and yet somehow hesitant.

"So?" she says.

"Sounds like they approve," Gabe says, taking off his mask to reveal an enormous grin. "I mean, that's what I assume. From all the screaming." He starts to tuck the mask under his elbow but Jesse tugs it out of his hands, holding it up to examine the long beak and the eye holes that are somehow exuding purple-tinted smoke. He points it Sombra's way, giving her an impressed look. She preens. 

"Mr. Grim Reaper, sir," Emily says seriously. She meets first his eyes then Sombra's, and points over her shoulder at the haunted house. "I want to live in that."

"I still can't breathe," Lena laughs, face buried in sleek fur. 

Gabe beams at them both, turning to Jesse. Jesse gives him a proud grin and hands him back the mask, putting up two thumbs. "I mean," he says, shaking his head and turning to Sombra. " _Damn_. You absolutely blew it outta the water." 

Sombra laughs and affects a disinterested shrug, but her pleasure is clear. Gabe claps him on the back. "Damn right."


	24. trick or treat

Sombra slouches down in her chair, fixing a narrow eyed stare on the classroom door. She’s half hoping they end up with a sub today, to avoid ruining the fantastic day Halloween is turning out to be. But just as she really gets her hopes up, her luck doesn’t hold. Anderson waltzes through the door just as the bell sounds with some scrawny other man trailing after him. Sombra ducks her head and glares at her desk as Anderson’s gaze flits around the room.

The dust up last week over her newly purple hair is still fresh in her mind. He’d singled her out yet again over it but she’d been prepared, pulling out the school’s dress code to prove it was well within the bounds. She’d had exactly four minutes to revel in victory while he fumed until he sent her to the principal’s office anyway, citing her ‘disruptive behavior’ while she argued her case. 

Oh, she’ll show him disruptive.

Just not today. Today, she wants to do nothing more than bask in the glory of Halloween at the Reyes house and forget this asshole even exists.

Her mood does get a boost when she notices Anderson halt beside his computer and point imperiously at it. The new guy ambles up to it and starts logging in and Sombra has to fight to suppress a sharp smile. Seems like Anderson is getting tired of a spazzing machine after all. Yesterday’s incident of slides flipping totally out of order seems to have been the final clue to him that something real is wrong. His bitten off curses had been music to her ears.

Anderson surveys the classroom and clears his throat, waiting for the excited hubbub to die down. “Today,” he announces in his nasally whine, “you will work on your group project. I expect to see a mockup of your boards on my desk by the end of class.” 

¡Chingados!

Sombra keeps her gaze on her desk, not even looking up when Carlos brushes past her on his way to join his partner. He does give her shoulder a squeeze far too familiar for her tastes as he walks. She shoots him a half-hearted glare but he just gives her a wink as he drops into his new chair, undeterred. Sombra scowls. She doesn’t think he means to be annoying, but honestly. What will it take for him to get the hint?

Sombra tries to put it out of her mind and glances over at her own partner. Bella shows no inclination to move, either; she stares fixedly at her own desk, brows furrowed. Sombra frowns. She knows little of what went down on Genji’s birthday, just that they’d fought and apparently she’d been part of it. She has no idea why. But if Bella has a problem with Genji having friends, Sombra’s not about to give her any points for intelligence. Genji has more friends than there are stars in the sky, and Bella knows that. It’s absurd.

Either way, Sombra isn’t itching to jump into that conversational minefield with so little intel. She much prefers to be holding all the cards. So, solo it is.

She’s just getting the sheets of their outline spread out across her desk to work on by herself when the last sound she wants to hear grates on her ears. “Maria,” Anderson calls across the room, beady eyes fixed on her. She glares back. “Are you planning to join your partner at any time today?”

Sombra says nothing. Anderson narrows his eyes and opens his mouth.

“Sorry, Sombra,” Bella cuts in. She still puts her usual emphasis on the name. “I was just getting my stuff together, I’m coming.” She scoops an arm under the mess of papers on her desk and scurries over. Anderson transfers his glower to her but doesn’t say anything, waving a bony hand before turning back to the guy at his computer. Bella drops into the seat next to Sombra and pulls off her witch’s hat, setting it on the last free patch of desk. 

“God, I hate that man,” Bella mutters with just enough volume for Sombra to hear as she tries to reorganize her pages. Sombra lets one corner of her mouth quirk into a half-smile, glad they can still agree on that point. But Bella bites her lip as she shuffles around the drafts of their mock-up a few more times than strictly necessary. Sombra starts to feel ill at ease again when she won’t look up. She wishes she knew the underlying issue here, that she’d forced Genji to put down his ferret long enough to tell her what happened. Sure, it was his break up. But she’s the one that has to see Bella again so soon.

She’s about ready to say something that will set off a few fireworks herself, anything to break this terrible pause. Then Bella raises her head and says the last thing Sombra expects to hear. 

“I’m sorry about Friday.” Bella gives her an even gaze and looks genuinely apologetic. Sombra’s thrown off balance, but aside from a few rapid blinks she tries not to show it.

She performs her best careless shrug. “What are you apologizing to me for? It wasn’t my birthday.”

“No,” Bella agrees, looking down again. “Did Genji tell you what happened though?” Sombra shakes her head and Bella sighs. “Well, if you didn’t know, we broke up. Since then, anyway. We’ve been arguing about spending time together, and I was getting too jealous of the attention he gives other people. I…” She takes a deep breath and raises her gaze to meet Sombra’s, steeling her shoulders. “I may have accused him of cheating on me.”

Sombra frowns, nonplussed. “You know Genji doesn’t cheat, right? He wouldn’t—“ The last piece clicks in place and Sombra gapes at her. “He wouldn’t with anyone, and definitely not with me.”

“Yeah,” Bella says in a small voice. “I know that. Or at least, I thought I did. I know he’s super social and I told myself I could handle it. But I just…it was like all of a sudden I was seeing hidden meanings in everything he did, everything he said to other people. I couldn’t turn it off. So we fought, and I brought you up, and I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair to you at all.”

“If you say so,” Sombra says with another shrug, trying for flippant. She’s glad Bella’s looking down again because she’s not sure she’s keeping all her uncertainty from showing. 

“He’s just so physical, you know?” Bella mumbles. “With, like, literally everyone. And I knew that, going in. But I guess I wasn’t ready for the reality of it.” Sombra nods, even though she really doesn’t. “There’s like a part of my brain that is totally convinced he actually means something by it, every time,” Bella goes on. She picks up her pen and starts tracing over the lines on the page in front of her. 

“That’s just Genji,” Sombra says, hesitant and unhappy about it. 

“Yeah, it is,” Bella says. The new firmness to her tone makes Sombra relax a little despite herself. Bella gives her a small smile. “It’s part of what’s great about him. I just didn’t realize how badly I’d take it in a relationship, but now I know. No more dating naturally flirty people. I don’t really like jealous me.”

Sombra returns the smile, in no small part because it sounds like Bella’s putting this behind her. She’s pretty relieved to be keeping one of her staunchest supporters in the war on stupid authoritarians. 

“Bella, Maria,” Anderson snaps not a second later from where he hovers over the other man’s shoulder. “Are you two working or gossiping?”

“Sombra and I,” Bella stresses her name with an added eye roll, “are working. Would you like to see our outline and mock up?”

“I want both of them on my desk by the end of class.” Anderson turns his attention back to the picture of technical frustration before him. Sombra drinks in the baffled and vexed expressions cycling across the other man’s face as he works and savors every one.

Bella flips open to a clean sheet of paper. “You write up the clean outline, I'll draw out the mock up?” She pulls out a purple pen with a grin.

“Sure,” Sombra agrees. She doesn’t bother suppressing a laugh when Bella snatches the black pen out of her hand and replaces it with a green one.

“So you really don’t ever get jealous?” Bella asks as she concentrates on her pen strokes.

Sombra shrugs. “I guess not. I'm not really interested, you know? Nothing to be jealous of.”

Bella sits up and lets her head tip to one side, but there’s a small grin on her face. “I don’t think I get it.”

“That’s fair,” Sombra grins back. “Jesse and Genji don't get it, either. They just like to torture me with their interests.”

“I’ll try not do to that, I promise,” Bella laughs. She quiets and looks down at her desk, a little lost in thought. “Wow,” she says.

“What?” Sombra squints at her.

“I’m just thinking how, if you’re not interested in, like…anyone?”

Sombra shakes her head, vehement. “Not my thing.”

Bella lets out another laugh, this one self-depreciative. “I’m just thinking how crazy it got in my brain, thinking stuff that is apparently very not true.”

“Ugh, so not true,” Sombra groans. “Genji’s just this annoying pest that spends way too much time at our house. I think he likes our kitchen better.”

Bella grins. “Well, your house actually has a kitchen, right? No wonder.” She knocks her first against Sombra’s and slides the completed mock up over for her to peruse. Sombra hands over the outline just as some classic Spice Girls blares from Anderson’s computer at full volume. 

Sombra doesn’t bother to squash her grin when the classroom as a whole whoops, chairs scraping all around as an impromptu dance party kicks up. Bella cackles and tugs Sombra to her feet to join in.

\--

The bedroom door crashes open and Jack is rather proud that he manages to smother his instinctive reaction, turning it into a nonchalant sip from his mug and an unhurried pivot to look. Hana drapes herself against the doorframe, the picture of vintage defiance, and blows an obnoxious bubble with her gum.

Jack salutes her with his mug. "Looks good."

"That's it?" Hana huffs, flicking the hoop hanging from one ear to make it swing. She reaches up to tighten the scarf over her hair as she comes into the living room. "Aren't you supposed to yell about hooligans and getting off your lawn or something? Step it up, old man."

Jack gives her an exaggerated shake of his head, saying only, "Kids these days."

"Better," Hana says, holding up one hand and tilting it back and forth. Then she pauses, casting a more critical eye over him. "Where's your costume?"

"I'm wearing it," Jack growls, adding extra umph to the natural gravel in his voice. "My costume is grouchy old man."

Hana laughs and shakes her head, ponytail whipping back and forth. "You know what? That one I'll actually let you have. Even if I don’t think it counts as a costume." Jack pitches the pillowcase he'd grabbed for her at her face and picks up his keys as she squawks. He pauses in the doorway when he realizes she's not right behind him. 

He turns back. Hana hasn't moved, standing in the middle of the living room and staring down at the pillowcase in her hands. Jack falters, frowning. "Hana?"

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, her sigh trembling a little on the exhale. Then she steels her shoulders and straightens up, clutching the pillowcase with tight fingers. She marches to the door and gives him a nod. "I'm ready," she says quietly.

Jack wraps an arm around her as he locks the door behind them. He doesn't let go until they tumble into the car.

Hana's spirits start to rise by the time they pull up to the curb in front of Reinhardt's. She giggles at a few costumes of the little kids getting an earlier start, though Jack notices it still sounds a little watery. But she hops out of the car the instant he shuts off the engine and makes a beeline for the porch. Jack looks over to see Reinhardt lumbering out of a wicker chair in time to catch her in a hug, enfolding her in the black leather of his greaser jacket that matches her outfit. 

She reaches up to poke his meticulously slicked back hair and laughs in delight. He preens as Jack joins them before he herds them all inside. Three plates are set out on the island counter, surrounding a bowl piled high with some sort of pasta. The smell of garlic alone makes Jack’s mouth start watering.

“I thought some real food would be best before we consume all of the sugar, yes?” Reinhardt says, wasting no time dishing out healthy portions. Jack gives him a grateful nod. They’d been a little rushed getting ready after he’d picked Hana up from school; he really has no idea how he’d manage this without Reinhardt making up for all his shortcomings without even asking.

Hana pays Jack’s mini-existential crisis no heed as she shovels in a heaping mouthful. “Slow down,” Jack grumbles, poking her elbow. “No choking on my watch.”

Hana swallows and puts on her best adorable smile. “But you can save me if I do.”

Jack gestures down at his shirt. “Am I in uniform?” Hana squints at him and shakes her head slowly. “Then I’m not legally obligated,” Jack finishes with a grin. 

Hana laughs. “Pretty sure CPS would frown on that, at least. Besides, if you don’t, Reinhardt would. Right?”

Reinhardt gives her a solemn nod. “Of course I would. But Jack is right. No need to be choking in the first place.”

Hana takes a much smaller bite and makes a big production of it. “Ugh, fine. Spoilsports,” she says after she swallows like they’ve ruined all her fun. 

“What, you wanted to miss out on candy tonight?” Jack asks with a knowing grin.

Hana taps her chin with one pink-tipped finger, pretending to weigh the options. “You make a convincing argument,” she finally agrees and resumes eating at a much more reasonable pace.

“No costume, Jack?” Reinhardt asks, feigning disappointment.

“He’s going as a grouchy old man,” Hana says with a grin as she gets up to rinse her plate. “I told him it was too close to reality to count, but we’re pressed for time.” Jack chucks a balled up napkin at her and she laughs.

“I thought the movie was Grumpy Old Men?” Reinhardt gives Jack a wink as he brings the rest of the dishes to her. “Though I don’t think you quite match any of their outfits.”

“They made a movie about Jack? That’s hilarious!” Hana exclaims as she loads the dishwasher. Then she pauses and pretends to reconsider. “But probably pretty boring.”

“Sure, laugh it up,” Jack grumbles, trying in vain to keep the grin off his face. “Guess you really don’t want to keep any candy tonight, huh?”

“I’ll fight you for it,” Hana laughs, putting up her fists in a terrible imitation of a boxer ready to strike. She takes a play swing and Jack deflects it easily, to her great dismay. The doorbell rings before she can take another swipe and she abandons the game, rushing off to answer it. Jack tilts his head as she goes, a new thought striking him.

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” he says. Reinhardt raises an eyebrow as they start to follow her to the front. “Teaching her some moves. I’d like her to be able to defend herself, if she needed it.”

Reinhardt gives him a blinding grin and enthusiastic nod. “Yes, absolutely! And this I must see.”

They follow Hana out to the porch and find her inspecting her friend’s costume with great interest. Efi must have made it herself, some kind of robot with a few extra artificial limbs that are actually moving on their own as if they were real. In fact, Jack’s pretty sure the arm holding her bag isn’t her biological one. It’s impressive. 

He looks over to the tall girl standing behind her on the steps, dressed simply in a sweatshirt and jeans. She’s watching Efi with a proud smile while Reinhardt joins in the admiration. She meets his eye just as the familiarity strikes him, trying to place where he’s seen someone with colorful dreadlocks like hers before.

“Oh, hello,” she says, sticking out one strong hand. “You are one of the paramedics we see often, are you not? I’m Orisa.”

“Bastion’s probie, right,” Jack says as it finally hits him, shaking her hand. “Jack.”

“Yes, that is me,” Orisa says with a cheerful smile. “Efi is my sister. I hope you do not mind if I tag along?”

“Not at all,” Reinhardt booms, spreading his arms in welcome while Jack shakes his head. “I think we will need all the hands we can get to carry our load this evening, eh?” He grins and nudges Hana’s side with one elbow and Jack just groans. 

The girls laugh. “Challenge accepted,” Hana smirks and leads Efi and Orisa in a mad dash down the driveway. 

Jack and Reinhardt amble behind them at a much more reasonable pace, maintaining a close eye on the girls as they bounce from house to house. They never let them get more than a house or two ahead but otherwise don’t hassle them as they stroll side by side, occasionally dodging groups of swarming kids dressed in every costume imaginable. Jack does a double take when he sees one done up like a paramedic and pauses to give the kid a thumbs up.

They gain on the girls when they run into a house that has an actual line. The woman on the porch is giving out king sized candy bars, but with the caveat that she needs to comment on every single costume first. Jack and Reinhardt pause on the sidewalk and watch the girls chatter with others in the line as they wait.

Jack takes the moment to try to stretch out his back, cracking it with an audible pop. Reinhardt glances at him in surprise. “Are you alright, my friend?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Jack says on a groan as he gets another crack. “Think sleeping on the couch is catching up to me.”

“Ah.” Reinhardt smiles as the girls finally get their prizes and race down the driveway for the next house. “But that should be behind you soon, ja?”

Jack shrugs, a sullen mood sweeping over him. “One way or another,” he grumbles.

“What do you mean?” Reinhardt squints at him, stepping aside to let a kid dressed like an angel made of something like concrete barrel by them. The adult following gives them an apologetic smile as she struggles to keep up. “You have an apartment picked out, do you not? What is the other way?”

Jack shakes his head with a grimace. “That place fell through. Some kind of family emergency, I guess.”

“Oh,” Reinhardt says, impressively soft for his lung capacity. He glances back over his shoulder but Jack doesn’t follow his gaze. 

“Yeah.” He fixes his own glare on the sidewalk and kicks at a free clump of grass. “And I’ve seen every other apartment I could possibly afford in this whole damn area. There’s nothing else I would feel safe enough letting Hana live in. And we’re running out of time.”

“Jack,” Reinhardt starts but he’s getting too worked up to stop.

“I’ll have to start looking out of the city, and with our timeline? We’ve only got a few weeks before we have to be moved. Why is this whole city so fucking expensive anyway?”

“Jack, language,” Reinhardt barks, nodding at an approaching group of kids. “As to why the price? You are in LA, remember.”

“Well, I’m not taking her back to fu—“ Jack barely bites off the curse as a toddler dressed like a teddy bear totters by. “To Indiana, that’s for sure. We can’t leave at all, LA CPS has her case. And they said this is a pretty big milestone. I’ve gotta be able to provide for her, or they’ll—“ Jack cuts himself off again and swallows hard. He glances up and watches Hana and Efi come giggling down the next driveway, swapping candy bars. “They’ll take her if I can’t. I…I don’t want to lose her.”

"Come now," Reinhardt says, resting a heavy hand on his shoulder. "All is not lost. There is in particular one option I think you have overlooked completely."

"Oh yeah?" Jack snaps. "You mean a cardboard box under a freeway overpass? Because let me tell you, I have scoured this whole damn county—"

"If I am not mistaken," Reinhardt continues, overriding him with an even tone, "you have even seen this place yourself. I know you have."

"I—what?" Jack says, shoving his glasses up his nose. "What are you talking about?"

"Granted, it is not quite complete, so perhaps you did not consider it," Reinhardt says and the light finally clicks on in Jack's brain. He's got to be talking about the rental suite he put in his own house. That super nice, totally new, small but elegant attic apartment. In a fancy, lovingly restored historic Victorian house. In a great neighborhood, close to everything a renter could want. The price tag must be through the roof. And at this point, Jack would know.

"No," he says quickly. Reinhardt narrows his eyes.

"No?"

"Are you kidding?" Jack asks, incredulous. "I'm practically a real estate expert after this month. I can tell you exactly what that place upstairs of yours is worth, and it's way more than I could ever afford. You have to know that."

"I said nothing of what it is worth," Reinhardt says with a wave of his hand. "It matters only what I choose to charge for it."

Jack boggles at him. "You've seen my place now, right? Reinhardt, I can't take that spot, it would be—I don't know, highway robbery! I—"

"Jack," Reinhardt cuts him off again with the sternest gaze Jack's ever seen on him—outside of the Army, that is. "If you somehow think the value I would find in having you and Hana in my home is lesser than some stranger's money, then perhaps you do not know me at all."

Jack stares at him, mouth hanging open. Hana bounces back down the next driveway before he can think of a response, chattering about the costumes on a group of little kids. Reinhardt seamlessly switches his attention to her, cooing appropriately at a few she points out. Jack follows dumbly in their wake as they move on. 

As soon as Hana sprints off to catch up with Efi, Reinhardt turns back to him. "I did not put the apartment in to make myself money, Jack," he says, voice much gentler. "My first intention was to have a place for Fareeha, if she wanted an apartment of her own still close to her mother once she began college. But she tells me now that she will not need such a thing after all. So there is no one better I can think to offer it to than you." He places a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Please, at least consider it."

"It's not," Jack says but has to stop and swallow hard. "It's not that I don't appreciate it, believe me. I just...the thought of taking advantage of you, of taking something that nice that I can't earn is..." He can't even finish the thought out loud. It twists his stomach into a knot of unease so tight he's almost nauseous. 

"Then we would make other arrangements," Reinhardt says, using his grip to tug Jack a few steps forward when the girls start leaving them behind. "You will need to help me finish it in the first place, to meet our deadline. Then perhaps I could say you are responsible for your own maintenance. Or that you must help me in all of my other projects. I'm sure I will find another." He laughs, giving Jack a wink. "The money I will save in gas from trips to your place alone would be worth it, after all."

Jack works up a sheepish smile and starts walking at a more reasonable pace. He's trying to keep a level head and seriously think this through, but there's a thread of hope joining the nervousness and anxiety roiling through his gut and it makes for one hell of a cocktail. "I—okay," he says. "I'll think about it, I promise."

“Please do not think too long.” Reinhardt glances over at him, expression disarmingly serious. “I also do not wish to have Hana taken away from us.”

That right there does it. Jack’s heart squeezes a little at his tone, warmed despite himself at the reminder that someone else cares about Hana as much as he does. He knows he’s going to be taking Reinhardt up on his offer, pride be damned.

\--

Zenyatta folds his hands and casts a critical eye over the trio of children standing in front of his chair as they ply him with some top notch expressions of supplication. They're just on the cusp of the age he usually lets enter the haunted house, but these three he knows to be particularly fearless. He pauses to direct a man carrying a napping baby pumpkin to the path winding through the front yard's headstones, to collect some candy directly from the countess and the skeletal specter on the porch. Then he turns back to the children and tips his head forward to regard them solemnly.

"Do you think you are brave enough?" he asks, voice low. 

They immediately begin squabbling over who is the bravest of them, the princess in the middle—complete with sword strapped to her back Wonder Woman-style—puffs out her chest and stands the tallest. Zenyatta shoots a glance at the girl's aunt, a neighbor of his from down the street, while they argue. He holds one hand flat and, when he catches her eye, raises it a few inches with a nod to the entrance behind him. 

She bites her lip and reconsiders the haunted house, listening intently as a few screams echo through the doorway. Then she looks back at the trio, devolving now into a wrestling match, with a smile. She meets Zenyatta's eyes and gives one firm nod.

Zenyatta gives her a faint shrug and claps his hands. The children straighten up at once, coming to almost perfect attention. "Very well," he says. "I grant you permission to enter the nightmare that awaits. And I hope," he adds, lowering his voice to make it extra ominous, "that we shall see you on the other side."

The Hulk audibly gulps but he gives Zenyatta a nod nonetheless. The warrior princess and the fireman whoop and head straight inside. Zenyatta and the aunt listen closely, and sure enough the shrieks start up right away. But they're mixed with high-pitched laughter so Zenyatta declines to intervene. 

He turns instead to the aunt. "Hello, Karen," he says in his normal voice.

"Hey, man," she says, ever cheerful. "So it's more intense than ever, huh?"

"Indeed," Zenyatta says with a nod. "Sombra invested a great deal of effort into upgrading the technology. Would you like to go through it yourself?"

"No way," she laughs, holding both hands out in front of her. "Ellie and the boys are way braver than I am. They've been talking about literally nothing else since the calendar turned over, so I figure they can handle it. Thanks for the warning though."

"Of course," Zenyatta chuckles. "You know where I live, after all. I am not willing to risk alienating all of my neighbors when I help to scar their children for life."

"Not willing to risk the neighborhood war, you mean," Karen says with a wicked grin. "Bet Genji'd go for it. Wouldn't he love to get a practical use for his ninja skills?"

"He would," Zenyatta says, tilting his head in acknowledgement. "And that is exactly why I will not risk it. Between the two of us, it would not be a fair fight for the rest of you."

Karen laughs and holds up a hand for a high five. "I'm calling it right now, I'll be on your side. I don't want to lose. Hey, where is Genji anyway? In there somewhere?" She jerks her chin toward the haunted house.

"He is at a party at the Wilson’s house tonight," Zenyatta says. He holds out one placating hand. "However, the block should still be standing when you return. He promised that he would be home relatively early, so I expect it will not be too rowdy of an event. Especially for a school night."

"Oh, good," she says, feigning relief. Then she tilts her head, eyes crinkling with the force of her sudden grin, as maniacal laughter peppered with high pitched shrieks booms out of the depths of the haunted house. "Think they found Gabe. Guess I better to go collect them." She gives him a wink as she heads off. "We'll be back in five minutes when they demand to do it again."

"Until then," Zenyatta says with a wave and a fond nod.

He does a cursory check to make sure the paint job of his own skeleton costume is still in alignment, settling back into his lotus pose atop his bar stool. Then he continues directing traffic, making himself the still stone that divides the currents of visitors between the path to the porch and the entrance to the haunted house. He doles out a series of appreciative noises as every creature passes him, from pirates to Voltron Paladins to one particularly creative cardboard robot. 

He can see Sombra light up as the latter approaches her and watches her exclaim over the hand crafted dials and readouts that dot the various paper panels. He allows himself a tiny smile when she pretends to hack it. The young man then starts doing the robot dance at her gesture, to Amélie's delighted laugh. Zenyatta takes a moment for a deep centering breath and turns back to the small crowd gathering before him. 

Sometimes the feeling strikes at the strangest moments. The sense of being just out of step with the world he finds around him, of being caught between two places without belonging to either. He catches movement in his peripheral and lets his gaze fall on a pair dressed as the Beast and Belle, passing him after completing the course. They dig through their stuffed bags with bright grins, eyes alight and breathless with laughter. Such a preoccupation with seeking thrills and reveling in the rush of adrenaline, for such a passing reward as sweets, is so unlike anything he'd grown up around. The focus of the mountaintop monastery had been peace and serenity, how the flesh is an illusion and that true self is without form. He'd grown up hearing that pursuits of the body are paltry in the face of tranquility.

He still believes it. But the idea that one is best at peace in isolation, when sequestering oneself from the world...

Zenyatta takes another measured breath and tries again to center himself in the midst of shouts and screams and laughter. He left for a reason, after all. He could never convince himself that separation from the world is the best way to achieve enlightenment, that ideals without practice is the true path. But sometimes, he can't help but wonder what his brothers and sisters would think if they could see him now.

He tries not to imagine the response.

But then a young girl walks up to him, dressed to the nines in a ninja costume that could be the spitting image of Genji's. Zenyatta is forcibly reminded of his young charge, mind yanked back to the present at once. He gazes down at her as she raises her chin and puts her hands on her hips, plastic pumpkin dangling from one wrist.

Zenyatta inclines his head, waving one hand toward the entrance. "If you dare," he manages to say, after clearing his throat.

"I can do it," she says, voice firm. "I'll sneak past all those monsters. They won't even know I'm there!" Without further ado, she adopts an admirable pose perfect for sneaking and slinks inside. 

Zenyatta watches her go without bothering to school the tiny smile off his face. She must be just around the age Genji'd been when Gabe had first introduced them, though she's in considerably better spirits. He takes a moment to dwell on those early days, on the rage, misery, and suspicion that seemed to comprise the very fabric of Genji's being. He thinks of the progress he's made, of how much he's allowed Zenyatta to help him. He suddenly finds centering himself a much easier task.

The others might find solitude the appropriate way to live, but Zenyatta must have action. He is not satisfied unless he gets his hands dirty, as Gabe would say. He might miss the quiet and simplicity of the monastery some days, but he straightens his shoulders and beckons the next group of witches and superheroes forward. 

He doesn't regret a thing.

\--

Genji casts an eye over the remains of the party as he mixes two last drinks. The music is still going but few people are dancing, most opting to start heading home for the night. He returns a few cheerful nods as he hefts the cups and balances them on one hand, turning toward the back door. He sees Charlie take a step toward it too, frowning a little as they look through the window at the lone figure on the patio. But then Genji must catch their eye. They take in the drinks in his hand and the intention that must be clear on his face. They give him a wink and a nod before changing direction to head back into the living room.

Genji grins at them and carries the two drinks outside. He settles cross-legged beside Antonio in one smooth motion without spilling a drop. Antonio gives him an impressed little grin as Genji hands him the second cup. 

“Thanks,” he says, using his free hand to push the tin foil sleeve that makes a convincing metal arm back in place. 

“You are welcome,” Genji says and discreetly shifts a bit closer. “I saw you come out here alone. I thought you could use a drink, even if you did not wish to be around others.”

“You thought I wanted to be alone, so you came out to sit with me?” Antonio arches an eyebrow at him.

“I will admit,” Genji says, displaying his most charming smile. “I was hoping that my company would be acceptable. But I can leave if you like.”

Antonio pushes his dark hair back out of his face. “No, you’re fine. The house was just, well. A little crowded for me.”

Genji hums in reply. It’s not that crowded by his standards, considering they all have school tomorrow. But from what he has seen so far, Antonio does not enjoy crowds. He’s not as bad as Sombra, but Genji hadn’t even expected to see him here tonight. It’s definitely been a nice bonus to Halloween.

Antonio laughs. “You wouldn’t think this is a crowd, huh?”

Genji just shrugs. “If it makes you uncomfortable, then why did you come?” he asks around a sip. Then he winks. “Not that I am not pleased that you are here.” 

“Flirt,” Antonio declares but he’s smiling.

“Yes,” Genji agrees, cheeky. “Is it working?”

“Not yet,” Antonio hums. “But keep at it. You might have a chance.” His cheeks start to redden and he quickly ducks his head, letting his long hair fall forward.

“I am sure we can find you a ride home, if you wish to leave.” Genji really does not want him to leave, but he’s not about to force him to stay.

“No, I can walk from here. I came because Charlie invited me, and I didn’t want to disappoint them,” Antonio says, setting aside his drink and picking up his mask. He fiddles with it and avoids Genji’s eyes. “And they’re right, anyway. My family is supposed to be here for a few years this time, at least. I might even get to graduate from here. Seems like a good idea to start meeting people, I guess.” Antonio sets his mask back down with a shrug. He leans forward and wraps his arms around his knees.

Genji shifts around so he’s facing Antonio and rests his chin in his hand, elbow propped on a knee. “That is a good idea, I agree. But perhaps it would go easier if you started with smaller groups?”

“Yeah,” Antonio huffs out a little laugh. “That’s probably a better plan.”

“How about Friday, then?” Genji says. “We could go to the movies, if you would like.”

“A smaller group as in two, huh?” Antonio chuckles, leaning his head on his knees to look at Genji.

Genji shrugs with a grin. “That would defeat the purpose of you meeting new people, but I would have no complaints. I was thinking four or five, six at most.”

“That…” Antonio draws out the word as he considers it. “That might be fun. But,” he gives Genji a smile through his full on blush, “only if you’ll escape with me if it gets too crowded.”

“That I will promise you,” Genji says, reaching out to lay a hand on Antonio’s wrist. 

He’s interrupted by the shout of, “Genji!” that echoes from the house. Antonio startles so Genji draws back his hand, rolling his eyes.

“We are not inviting him,” Genji sighs and Antonio laughs a little. “Yes, Carlos?” he add, loud enough to carry. 

“Shit, sorry,” Carlos says, head sticking out the back door. “Never mind, it can wait.” He flaps a hand at them and disappears back inside. 

“It’s fine,” Antonio says though Carlos has already high-tailed it. “I think I am going to head out anyway. Tell Charlie I said bye, will you?” He gets to his feet and slides his costume’s mask back on. 

Genji stands with him. “I will tell them.”

Antonio reaches out this time and gives Genji’s arm a squeeze before walking toward the gate. He turns back as he works the latch and gives a little wave. “By the way,” he calls, “I like your ninja costume.”

“Cyborg ninja,” Genji corrects with a bow. “Way cooler.”

“I was wondering why you had all the lights,” Antonio laughs, the sound muffled by the mask. “But cyborg, sure. Just with no robotic parts.”

“Those are all on the inside,” Genji says and glides over to the gate. “It is much easier to keep undercover that way.” He goes up on his toes to press a kiss to the side of Antonio’s mask. “And I have always liked the Winter Soldier. You make an excellent one, if I may say.”

“Well, obviously,” Antonio blinks, sounding a little stunned. “Thanks.”

Genji nods and watches him go before collecting their cups and rejoining Carlos at the back door. He pauses on the threshold to direct one very disappointed raised eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, man,” Carlos says. “I didn’t realize he was out there with you.”

Genji waves an airy hand. “I will forgive you eventually, I suppose. But you did get yourself uninvited Friday.”

“Friday? What’s Friday?” Carlos squints at him as they head back into the kitchen. 

“For you, nothing.” Genji grins. “Antonio and I are going to the movies with a few people. Certainly not with you, after that.”

“So not fair,” Carlos grumbles though there’s no heat to it.

Genji salutes him with his mostly empty cup. “What did you need?”

“Oh, nothing important,” Carlos shrugs, watching Genji toss the used cups. “I just wanted to ask you about Sombra. Was kind of hoping she’d come with you tonight.” He leans into Genji’s side as they survey the dispersing party.

Genji laughs and shrugs him off. “You do not have a chance.” He steps into the living room to catch Charlie and pass along Antonio’s goodbye, adding in an invite for Friday, before he and Carlos head out the door. 

“What makes you say that?” Carlos frowns as they make their way down the sidewalk. “I’m a nice guy, right?”

“The nicest,” Genji agrees easily. “But that does not matter. Sombra has no interest in dating. It matters not who or what you are, you would still have no chance.”

“How does that…?” Carlos starts, scrunching up his face as he seems to reconsider his question.

Genji places a hand on his shoulder. “You know how I am, yes?” Carlos nods, still frowning. “Think of her as the complete opposite. She feels no desire to date anyone, in any manner. I do not think she sees the point to it. It does not interest her in any way.”

“Huh,” Carlos says, silently processing that new perspective as they turn the last corner back toward Zenyatta’s house. “Okay. That’s fair. Wait,” he says, turning an incredulous look on Genji. “You knew this before your birthday?”

“Of course,” Genji says, failing to clamp down on his impish grin.

“Why didn’t you say something then?” Carlos groans. He claps his hands over his face. “I made a fool of myself.”

Genji gives him an unapologetic shrug. “It was entertaining.” Carlos lunges for him and Genji lets him complete his tackle, feeling magnanimous. They devolve into a wrestling match on Zenyatta’s front lawn, cackling all the while.

\--

Jesse sprints up the steps, juggling the package under his arm and the keys in his hands as he tries not to trip. Falling right back down the stairs isn’t going to help the fact he’s already late as it is. He reaches his floor and books it down the hall, skidding to a stop in front of his door. He props the package against the door while he tries to insert his key the right side up, the packing tape covering it three layers thick crinkling as he twists.

He’s just gotten the key straightened out when the door opens suddenly. Jesse tumbles forward without the brace, backpack sliding off his shoulder and package dropping out of his hands. It stops its descent when a second set of hands catches it and Jesse looks up, almost nose to nose with Hanzo. 

Jesse jerks upright with a crack, the hand not gripping his bag going sheepishly to the back of his neck on autopilot. “Hey, thanks.”

“Another package?” Hanzo asks, tilting it this way and that to examine it. He steps back to allow Jesse entrance and sets it on his desk. 

“Yeah,” Jesse says, dumping his backpack. “Gabe goes a little wild around Halloween, it’s his favorite holiday. So we should be stocked on baked goods for a while.” 

“Cookies!” Lena chirps before dropping down out of Jesse’s loft. “You’d better open that this instant, mate. Before I do.”

Jesse laughs and digs through the clutter on his desk, trying to remember if he left scissors anywhere in it. “Yeah, yeah. When they hell did you get here, anyway?”

“Ages ago,” Lena says with a dramatic swoon. “You’re the one that’s late. I deserve a reward for my patience, I think.”

Jesse rolls his eyes as he abandons his hunt. He slides a finger under one edge of the tape and almost gives himself a papercut. Lena attacks the other side with her sharper nails while Hanzo shakes his head and moves over to his own desk. “Got caught up talkin’ to Angie after class ‘bout our paper, so we grabbed some grub. Neither of us realized how long it’d take.”

“Well, I had a right proper nap waiting on you, alright,” Lena grins, glancing around the room. “You lot need some real places to sit around here, you know.” She catches Hanzo’s eye and spreads out her hands, soliciting agreement. Hanzo ducks his head and gives her an ineffectual shrug before going back to sorting through the chaos that still covers his desk. 

Jesse straightens up, contemplating the packing tape from a new angle. “What’s wrong with the desk chair?”

Lena fixes him with an unimpressed look. “I said real places, not a medieval torture chair.” 

Jesse opens his mouth to protest for argument’s sake alone when Hanzo steps back over and drops his own pair of scissors into Jesse’s hand. Jesse grins at him. “Thanks. Besides,” he says, slitting the tape with much more efficiency, “maybe we don’t got seats, but we sure have cookies. I think our priorities are in order, don’t you?”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Lena sighs, reaching over his arm to pluck out plastic containers. “But you’ve only got them because Gabe overbakes, anyway. Don’t see you making them.” 

Jesse sticks out his tongue and she laughs. “You don’t want me to, trust me. Bakin’ ain’t my thing.” He pulls out the last container and reads the label, turning a grin on Lena. “You tellin’ me you don’t want yours?”

She gasps and makes grabby hands, adopting a pleading expression. “Not at all! I meant to say clearly your priorities are in order and you’re the best ever, how’s that?”

Jesse drops the container into her hands in answer and she squeals in delight. She passes a finger over her name clearly written across the top, grinning over the flourish. She cracks it open and snatches up something that looks like a Reese’s cup. She gives first the cup then Jesse a suspicious look before shrugging and biting into it. Some kind of red filling drips down the sides like blood as she gives an appreciative moan around the mouthful. She does a little spin in place and shoves the rest in right away.

Jesse picks up the biggest container, filled to the brim with orange and black macarons, and narrows his eyes. He pries open the lid and chuckles when he sees the note taped to the inside of it.

> No crisis, I promise. Just showing Sombra how to make them.

Appeased, Jesse picks one out and bites into it. He hums with pleasure as the flavors melt over his tongue, offering the container to Hanzo while he chews the airy confection. Hanzo hesitates but takes one anyway. Jesse gives him a sugar-coated grin and reseals the container, stacking it with of the rest of the bloody chocolate cups and Gabe’s special Frankenstein brownies. He moves the pile of containers onto the shelf alongside the tea kettle, just above the new mini-fridge Lena had helped him bring in Sunday night. It’s coming together as a nice little snack corner.

He turns back to gauge Hanzo’s reaction, but he still hasn’t taken a bite. “They’re good, I promise,” Jesse says, nodding at the cookie he still holds awkwardly. “It’s orange and chocolate, can’t go wrong.”

Hanzo looks up from his perusal of its edges and gives him a nod. He takes a tiny bite. Jesse watches his eyes widen before the rest of the macaron disappears. “Thank you,” Hanzo says when he’s finished. “They are excellent.”

Jesse grins at him, patting the stack of containers. “There’s plenty more, help yourself. Just leave me a couple of those, yeah? Gabe don’t make these nearly as often.”

Hanzo graces him with a sly grin and Jesse’s heart does a slow somersault. “I will do my best,” Hanzo says. 

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out, brain blanking out on anything suave to say. He’s saved from further embarrassment by a knock on the door and Hanzo goes to answer it. 

Lena crashes into Jesse before he can recover and throws her arms around him, half eaten brownie in one hand. “Tell Gabe I love him, would you? These are the best.”

Jesse shakes himself and pokes her in the side. “Of course you love ‘em. They're overloaded with sugar.” She yelps and detaches herself, so he uses the extra space to pull out his phone. “Here, tell him yourself. I need to change. I remember someone sayin’ somethin’ about bein’ late.”

Lena chomps on the rest of her brown and waves her free hand as she drops her personal container on Jesse’s desk. “No one touch those, by the way. I’ll come back for them later,” she mumbles with her mouth full. Then she takes the phone, eyes going comically wide as she coos over the screen. “Warn a mate next time, would you? I wasn’t prepared for this level of adorable.” She flips it around and points an accusing finger at the picture, an overhead shot of Haku sprawled upside down in a nest of Genji’s green hair. Jesse gives her an innocent shrug and goes to collect the pieces of his costume. Lena laughs and plops on the floor in one elegant twist, hunched over Jesse’s phone.

He glances at the door on his way toward the bathroom, freezing mid-step. Hanzo steps back to let the girl with the long hair inside. She’s dressed in a normal blue button down, backpack over her shoulder. Now that Jesse’s thinking about it, Hanzo’s likewise in his everyday garb. Whatever they’re doing, it doesn’t look like they’re celebrating Halloween.

The girl pauses when her gaze falls on him and Jesse swallows hard. Then he tells himself to man up and tips his hat. “Hello. Not sure we’ve met yet, proper. Name’s Jesse. The crazy one back there on the floor is Lena.”

Lena looks up just long enough to stick her tongue out at Jesse. “Ignore him,” she says to Hanzo and the girl. “I’m far beyond crazy.”

“Hello,” the girl says stiffly, appraising Lena with narrowed eyes. She turns an equally critical look on Jesse, but he can see some underlying nervousness as she hesitates in the door. Hanzo shoots Jesse a sharp look from behind her but he ignores it, giving the girl his best disarming smile. It doesn’t do much to placate her but she at least takes a step into the room. “I am Satya,” she says, glancing between them again. “Will you two be staying? We have much we must accomplish tonight.” She looks back to Hanzo as she finishes and he steps up behind her, as if to lend her support. 

Jesse tries to answer but the words lodge in his throat at the sight of them standing there together, his mouth dry.

Thankfully, Lena is unaffected. “Nope,” she says as she pops to her feet. “We’re heading out as soon as this one,” she puts some emphasis on her last words by kicking Jesse lightly in the ankle, “gets his act together.

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” Jesse grumbles and shuts himself in the bathroom, breathing a little easier to have the regal tableau Hanzo and Satya present out of sight. He shrugs into his suit, taking a few extra minutes to straighten out the long coat. It still has a few stains from last year’s vampire paint job, but they’re hardly noticeable. It makes for a fine gambler outfit once he swaps out his hat. 

Jesse takes a deep breath to steel himself and strides back into the room. 

Lena blinks at him, shoving her aviators up on top of her head. “That’s your costume? You damn near dress like that every day of the week.”

“You’re one to talk,” Jesse laughs, waving a hand at her flight suit.

“Oh, whatever. Let’s go!” Lena drags him to the door and hops out into the hall. Jesse pauses long enough to glance back and catch Hanzo’s eye while he waits for Satya to situate a chair to her liking. Jesse sweeps a hand toward the stack of baked goods with a meaningful glance and Hanzo, after a moment, nods. Jesse gives him a smile that feels weaker than he’d like and shuts the door. 

“I think,” Lena muses when he catches up to her, “that your dad wants to run off with my Emily.” She drops Jesse’s phone into his waiting hand as he raises an eyebrow. It’s no secret Gabe’d taken an instant liking to the girl; anyone who addresses him as the Grim Reaper upon first meeting is an instant winner in Gabe’s book. “He asked me for her address,” Lena goes on, pretending to be put out. “Should I be worried he’s going to kidnap her? She wouldn’t leave me any other way, you know.” She adds a love-struck sigh and a heavenward glance to her words and Jesse laughs. 

“I don’t think you have anythin’ to worry about,” Jesse says, allowing her to thread an arm through his elbow as they make their way out of the lobby and towards the frat houses beyond the dorms. “Pretty sure he’s got even less interest in women than I do.” Lena cackles and gives him a sloppy salute.

“You lot are missing out, let me tell you,” she says with a wicked grin and Jesse rolls his eyes.

“Please don’t,” he says, regretting it instantly when her eyes light up at what she clearly decides is a challenge. He’s saved only by Angela’s appearance as she flits out of her own dorm, reaching over one shoulder and trying to straighten out a wing in vain. “Here, lemme help,” Jesse calls and drags Lena over to her side. 

“Oh, thank you,” Angela says, turning sideways to let the two of them sort out the appendage. “It hooks under my coat. I think I twisted it when I put that overtop. There, much better.”

“This looks great, Angie,” Lena exclaims, circling her quickly to take in the details of the costume. “All you need’s a broom and you’ll be all set.”

Angela ducks her head, immediately raising a hand to keep her witch’s hat in place. But Jesse can tell she’s pleased. She stifles a giggle, waving between the two of them. “I have to say, from the amount the two of you gushed about this holiday, I expected a bit more effort.”

Jesse gives her an exaggerated hat tip. “This one packed the easiest. Think Lena’s just lazy, though.”

“Oi!” Lena digs her fingers into his side and Jesse yelps, jumping back and narrowly missing Angela. “I saw Gabe’s masterpiece this weekend, you’ve got no excuse if he can make something like that.”

Jesse shrugs. Angela makes an inquisitive noise and Lena, needing no further prompting, whips out her phone. She displays a few photos of Gabe’s intricate costume, right down to the glowing and smoking purple eyes of the mask. 

Angela takes the phone out of Lena’s hands and gapes at the pictures. “Now I wish I had skipped work and gone with you,” she says, only handing the phone back once they near their destination. 

“They’ll put it up again next year,” Jesse says, taking in the raucous scene before them. Light spills out of every window and chatter mixed with music pours out in its wake, bass thumping hard enough to rattle a few beer bottles scattered across the porch. This is one reason he picked this costume over his better ones at home; he doesn’t give a damn if it gets wrecked.

“Oh, good,” Angela says. She seems to forget her new wingspan as she stands between them, almost bumping Jesse’s shoulder as she studies the house. “Are we meeting anyone else?”

“Just Fareeha, I think,” Lena says, shoving her aviators back up her head. “She came ahead with some of her squad. Mei and Zarya begged off to do something else,” she pauses to waggle her eyebrows, “if you know what I mean.” Jesse rolls his eyes and Angela swats her shoulder, though her grin is just as wide. “And Jesse’s roommate is working on a project, I think he said.” Lena leans around to give Jesse a knowing grin. “Satya’s from his Intro to Architecture class. They’ve got some home design thing they need to complete over the semester.”

“Lena,” he says in what he hopes is a warning tone, not liking that grin.

“What?” She spreads her hands, the picture of innocence. “I might’ve chatted with them a bit while you were taking your sweet time.” Angela kindly steps back so Lena can jabs his side with one elbow. “Nothing else going on there, from what I could tell.”

Jesse groans, pulling the brim of his hat down to hide his face. This one’s not nearly as wide as his usual hat and does a paltry job of it. He knew he shouldn’t have left her alone in the room with them. Angela pats him on the shoulder and grabs one wrist each, tugging them up the stairs and through the front door. Jesse lets himself be pulled, stepping to one side when she stops in the entryway to avoid impaling himself on her wings. He can’t see much of house from where he stands, content to let the girls decide which rooms look most inviting and to follow in their wake. 

But it does give him the perfect vantage point to spot Fareeha when she comes from a room to one side—and freezes in the doorway. Jesse checks her line of sight and sure enough, she’s staring at Angela. Angela herself is facing away, peering around Lena to see into the living room, so she misses the show. But Jesse watches in delight as Fareeha’s eyes go wide and her jaw slackens. She recovers enough to throw back the remainder of her drink in one swallow, execute a perfect about face, and scurry back the way she came. All before Angela gets the chance to even turn around. 

Jesse doesn’t say a word when she glances over at him, just waving a hand to indicate he’ll follow her and Lena. He almost bites his tongue trying to control his smile until she turns back around. 

He knows for a fact this time he didn’t imagine the blush staining Fareeha’s cheeks. 

Lena leads them unerringly to a makeshift bar piled with an assortment of alcohols and mixers, a keg standing at the ready nearby. Jesse glances around as he pours himself a beer, watching the dancers crammed into the center of the cleared living room and those who instead perch around the edges trying to talk over the volume. 

Jesse nods to a few he recognizes from classes and drifts around the house throughout the evening, sometimes with Lena and Angela, sometimes on his own. He makes it out to the backyard at one point, getting no further than the porch when a familiar voice rings out over the din.

“Party time!” Jamie shouts, perched over a pile of what looks unnervingly like explosives. His mad scientist costume is complete with actual sparks dancing across the wheel spokes at his back and it makes Jesse nervous when he leans forward. “Anyone want some fireworks?”

The long tails of Jesse’s coat flare out around his legs as he abruptly turns back inside. 

He spots Mako in one corner, done up convincingly as Frankenstein’s monster and surrounded by a chattering group that keeps his cup full. He doesn’t seems to be participating in the conversation but looks comfortable nonetheless. The fact that he’s safely in here and away from whatever Jamie’s up to does nothing to sooth Jesse’s concern. He catches back up with Angela in the kitchen, resolving to stay away from the yard for a little while.

He wades in an out of the conversation, taking some time to think over one piece of information Lena’d dropped earlier. Intro to Architecture, huh? Jesse smiles to himself. Hanzo certainly has the drawing talent in spades, if his unfinished dragon drawing is anything to go by. He wonders why he hasn’t seen any other pieces of art around the room, but shakes off the thought. Hanzo seems to be intensely private; it was an accident Jesse’d even seen the dragons in the first place. He turns his attention back to the present with some effort. 

Fareeha joins them for a bit, and Jesse doesn’t miss the way she sets her shoulders and takes a deep breath before walking up behind Angela. Jesse tips his hat to her and graces her with a knowing grin. She gives him a weak glare and turns to face Angela, shrinking in on herself a bit at the warm greeting she receives. Angela’s follow up compliment on her meticulous zombie costume doesn’t seem to help in the least. Jesse’s not surprised she doesn’t last long, making some excuse within minutes and fleeing for the stairs. 

Angela seems not to notice, but Jesse’s pleased to note Lena’s wide eyes and delighted grin. She must have caught the whole thing.

They break off again a little later. Jesse meanders around the second level, saying hello when he knows people and making some friends when he doesn’t. He ends up by the back door after coming down for his newest top up and almost walks straight into Fareeha. She’s still as a statue on the threshold, fingers white around her empty bottle, and is back to staring at Angela across the room like she’s never seen the like. Her mouth works a few times and she takes an abortive step forward, stumbling a little. 

Jesse makes an executive decision and grabs her arm, tugging her back outside. He does a cursory check to make sure the fireworks are over before planting her in an empty lawn chair. 

“Did you see her, Jesse?” she asks, wide-eyed and earnest, before he can even get his ass in the next chair over. 

“Yeah, I did,” he agrees easily. The slur in her voice isn’t lost on him and he pats her hand. “I came here with her, remember?”

“Oh,” Fareeha says, slumping back. She stares at the grass in silence and Jesse just watches her. She sighs after a moment, sounding so love-struck Jesse has to bite down on his laugh. “I didn’t expect the wings. She’s just…she’s so beautiful.”

“Yeah?” he manages to ask, taking a sip from his cup to smother his grin. 

Fareeha nods so vigorously the beads in her hair clank together. “I’ve always thought so. And,” she grips the hand he still has on her arm and shakes it, “and on the inside, too. Now that I got to know her. She’s wrong about some things,” she goes on, wrinkling her nose. “But I like her anyway. Did I mention she’s beautiful? Because she is, she’s beautiful.”

“You might’ve,” Jesse says, chuckling. He’s never seen Fareeha like this before. 

“Jesse, what do I do?” she turns to him, her expression so perfectly imploring he wishes he had a camera ready. 

“You could try tellin’ her,” he advises. She sits bolt upright and stares at him like the thought had never occurred to her.

“I could tell her,” she repeats, mouth a perfect circle as she stares at the door hard enough to burn a hole through it. “You’re right. I could tell her!” She tries to leap to her feet but Jesse tightens his grip and yanks her back down.

“Maybe,” he says as she gives him a betrayed glare, “it’d be better to do it later. When you’re sober.”

To his relief, she sits back and blinks at him like that idea is equally new to her. “Oh,” she says, falling sideways and resting her head on his shoulder. “Good idea. I should do that.”

Jesse settles back and lets the noise from the music and conversations wash over him, tired enough to not mind sitting for a while. Fareeha makes a contented hum, curling up against him. Jesse grins and rests his cheek on her hair as they sit under the hazy stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAMMER DOWN!
> 
> So our goal has been to post a chapter a week and we are really trying to keep to that, we promise! Both of our jobs are going insane these days so it might not be possible but we are trying our best (turns out it's a little hard to edit while driving an ambulance). On the flip side, our chapter lengths seem to be getting longer, so hopefully that makes up for it?
> 
> So just putting this out there, asexuality is a spectrum just like any other sexuality. Sombra doesn't represent every ace, just like Genji doesn't represent every pansexual nor Jesse every gay man. Same goes for our OC Charlie and non-binary people. We're trying to inject more diversity (aka reality), but if we do something wrong or handle it insensitively please let us know! 
> 
> Your comments make each day better, thank you so much!
> 
> guestis: Good guess on the reunion, but nope. =)
> 
> Kottkungen: Believe me, we are absolutely just as invested. =D We spent hours looking at Craftsman style kit homes from the 1920’s to get the exact layout and footprint of Gabe’s house.
> 
> skyedancer_rae: We agree Genji deserves all the happiness, we know what he’s been through. And if Gabe learned restraint, we wouldn’t have Reaper or Haku, would we? Where would the fun be in that? And we’ll get to see more of Hanzo outside of classes and work as November progresses, we promise.
> 
> Primro: Gabe is going to BlizzCon with the kids. As for cosplay, probably not? But we’ll see what they all yell at us when we write it. These characters, so demanding.
> 
> crescendmoon: Jesse is working on Hanzo having some fun in his life. It's just going to take some time.
> 
> manta6: Welcome to the insanity. Hopefully you actually got some sleep though???
> 
> WHUMPBBY: Thank you so much! Hopefully we didn’t make you cry too much. It really wasn’t our intention.


	25. feliz cumpleaños, mental blue screen of death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND WE'RE BACK! 
> 
> Super sorry about the impromptu hiatus, we had no idea a) we were vacationing in the land of no cell service or b) would contract the plague (twice). We will do our best to forewarn for any absences longer than two weeks in the future.

Something's off. 

Gabe can sense the change in the room even though he's not fully awake yet. He lies perfectly still as he comes to awareness, trying to determine if it's just the cat again. He's a light sleeper by nature—when he sleeps at all—but Reaper's comings and goings throughout the night have stopped setting off his alarm bells. He's not sure if that's something he should be happy about.

Sure enough, his next deep breath lodges a fair amount of fur in his nose. And there's a constant rumble buzzing against his neck and shoulder. But he doesn't remember the faint click-clacking sound ever being part of Reaper's repertoire whenever he deigns to purr in Gabe's presence. Which is usually right in Gabe’s ear, sprawled across his face whenever he is trying to sleep.

He tries to pin it down without giving away his wakefulness. His subconscious is indicating _change_ and not _threat_ , after all. So he considers all available sensory inputs, from the dim light reddening the insides of his eyelids to the early strains of birdsong to the kitten's contented rumble, radiating his complete lack of alarm or concern. 

His ability to do this, to identify threats in his sleep and react accordingly and only when necessary, is part of what made him a stand out agent in the special forces. It's also why he feels comfortable sleeping with his door unlocked in a houseful of kids. Kids that can be prone to nightmares of their own, to boot. But this doesn't feel like somebody had a bad dream and seeks reassurance. Gabe would bet Sombra just wants something.

He opens his eyes. Reaper is dangerously close to using his face as a pillow so Gabe shrugs him off, rolling him over with a sleepy yowl of displeasure. He props himself up on one elbow and surveys the room for the rest of what disturbed him, unhurried. Sombra sits cross-legged at the foot of the bed, well out of range of any accidental kicks. Her laptop balances on one knee and she doesn't look at him, just lifts one hand to wiggle her fingers at him in greeting.

"Morning," he rumbles, yawning. He glances over at the clock and closes his eyes again, stifling a groan at the numbers displayed. "If you're about to tell me you hacked the Pentagon on a sugar high, you're on your own."

Sombra snorts. "Like you wouldn't have me over the border before they notice."

"At this exact moment, I would just go back to sleep," Gabe says, scrubbing a hand across his crusty eyes. He stretches out his back, groaning a little, and shifts to sit upright against the headboard. "So. Any particular reason you're here and not asleep in your own room right now? It's too early to be getting ready, unless you're just that excited about school today for some reason."

Sombra looks up to meet his eyes but says nothing. She tilts sideways to reach over the edge of the bed, picking up something off the floor with a soft metallic scrape. Then she straightens and thrusts the French press at him.

Gabe blinks at it but doesn't move to take it. He furrows his brows and looks back up at her. "Something special going on today I should know about?"

"Yeah," she says. She shakes the press for emphasis so he takes it out of her hand. Her cheeks start to take on a redder hue than normal but she doesn't break eye contact, sitting up a little straighter. "I decided. Today's my birthday."

"Oh," Gabe says. He shoves the covers off his legs, further disturbing the sleeping kitten. Reaper turns and scowls at him, effect ruined by the clumps of fur sticking up wildly across his face. "Okay."

Sombra follows him down the stairs with a pleased little grin, laptop shoved under one arm. He hands her back the press and starts getting out eggs and potatoes and all the fixings of a deluxe breakfast while she goes to grind some coffee beans. Sombra finishes her task first and steals a back burner on the stove for the kettle, sneaking some crumbled fragments of bacon to feed to Peacekeeper when he rambles in to beg. Gabe pretends he didn't see it happen.

The luxurious scent of brewing coffee fills the air before long, mingling with the spices Gabe adds to the potatoes and the underlying aroma of frying bacon. Sombra props her laptop up on the island and goes back to whatever she was doing before while she waits, attention focused. Gabe takes the opportunity to pull out his phone with his free hand while he pretends to poke the potatoes pieces around the cast iron skillet.

> sent (group) << Sombra's birthday today

He flips the bacon one last time and pulls it off to drain, setting the eggs to fry just as the toast pops up. Sombra grabs it from the toaster before he can reach for it, buttering the pieces one by one and stacking them on a plate. She balances it on a pile of plates and silverware and dumps the whole load on the table.

"So," she says, leaning casually against the island, "any chance my special day lets me skip out on school?"

"Nope," Gabe says. Sombra makes a face. "Nice try. Although," he continues, tapping one finger against his chin and regarding her with a critical eye, "now that you mention it, you don't look so good. If you just happened to, say, get sick and need to check out halfway through the afternoon, what can you do?" Her eyes light up and a delighted grin spreads across her face. 

"What exactly does that authorize?" she asks with no small amount of glee.

"Anything you feel you need to sell it," Gabe chuckles. He points a menacing forefinger at her before she can get carried away. "'Anything' being limited to things I would feel are absolutely necessary."

Sombra waves a dismissive hand, face scrunched with disdain. "That eliminates like nothing."

"In general, true," Gabe concedes. "But the key to operation planning is situational requirement, with an eye on long-term impact. As in, you are absolutely going back tomorrow, so don't oversell it."

"Ugh, fine," Sombra huffs with a smile. She helps him carry the steaming dishes to the table, jerking her hand back from the French press with a frown. Gabe's about to ask what's wrong when she pulls out her phone and gives it a quizzical stare. Then she laughs. "Word travels fast around here, huh?"

Gabe performs his best unapologetic shrug and pours the coffee.

His own phone dings a few times in quick succession a second later. He waits until she's absorbed in fielding an apparent flurry of messages between bites to turn to his own.

> Jesse (group) >> and you think now is the best time to tell us this  
>  Jesse (group) >> what do you people not understand about mornings being evil  
>  Jesse (group) >> jk just tell me where to meet y'all tonight
> 
> Genji (group) >> PARTY TIME  
>  Genji (group) >> how much would she kill me if I broke into her locker and filled it with confetti
> 
> Jesse (group) >> DO IT
> 
> Zenyatta (group) >> Now, Genji. An endeavor such as this is best only undertaken with proper reflection upon all aspects and consequences.  
>  Zenyatta (group) >> That is to say, if you can get it into her backpack as well it would be ideal.
> 
> sent (group) << She will absolutely murder you.  
>  sent (group) << Do it before lunch, she's probably skipping history.
> 
> Genji (group) >> consider it done!!!

Gabe sets aside his phone with a chuckle. Sombra quirks an eyebrow at him around a sip from her mug, breaking eye contact long enough to send another message. Gabe plays it cool. "Jesse's asking where to meet us tonight," he says. "Got a place picked out for dinner yet?"

Sombra bites her lip, looking back down at her plate. "Not yet," she says slowly. She shoots a glance around the kitchen and the spread laid out across the table before returning her gaze to meet his, almost shy. "I was thinking...maybe just here? But if you'd rather not cook—" She cuts herself off with a blink when Gabe dives for his phone.

"Are you kidding?" he asks, fingers flying. His deep grin tugs on the thick scar tissue scattered across his cheeks. "I'm pulling Genji in, he'll never forgive me if I don't let him help. But you think we'd pass up the chance to be responsible for your first birthday dinner here? We'll blow your fucking socks off." 

"Oh, yeah?" she teases him with an appraising look. "Now you have to deliver, or you'll disappoint the entire Reyes family legacy."

"Just you wait, kid," he growls, infusing his voice with a menacing sort of promise though he doesn't try to filter the twinkle from his eyes. "Just you wait."

\--

Jack sits in his car and stares up at the imposing brick school building looming overhead. He clenches Hana’s class schedule in his hand, crinkling the paper, despite having it already memorized. Parents move in and out of the building in small clusters. Jack watches them critically, trying to convince himself to get out of the car.

He’s never been here without Hana in tow before. Or, more accurately, leading him through the maze of hallways. Today, she’s home with Reinhardt. Jack’s sure the big man is filling her head with ideas about the apartment upstairs and things they can do to make it less boring. He hasn’t officially accepted the offer, but it seems to be a done deal in Reinhardt’s mind. And even Jack will admit he’s not really wrong—just not out loud yet.

Jack looks down at the schedule one more time and bites his lip. Six teachers total. Well, five if he doesn’t count gym. He might skip that talk, just to knock the count of required human interaction down one level. In fact, the mid-term report card they’d sent home suggests Hana’s doing just fine, and he’s proud of her for it. For all her devotion to her games, she seems to take her studies very seriously. It makes Jack wonder if he needs to show up to parent-teacher conferences at all. The temptation to skip is strong, he has to admit.

But Jack feels like getting to know her teachers and showing interest in her progress is one of those things responsible guardians just do. So he’ll steel himself and talk to as many of her teachers as he can even if it kills him.

It’s only five people. He can do this. Jack swallows hard, other hand tightening around his indulgent caramel mocha, and gets out of the car. He takes a swig and slams the car door, savoring the excess sugar like a lifeline. If there was ever a better time to spring for ridiculous coffee, Jack hasn’t yet experienced it.

He takes a deep breath and marches into the building, relying on signs taped to the wall to direct him to the cafeteria. He stops short just inside the door, tensing up as a cacophony of voices and chairs scraping across the floor slams into him like a wall. He clenches his jaw and tries to focus, letting old habits take over as he scans the big room. Tables are scattered throughout in an approximation of orderly, little signs dangling from each one. Jack adjusts his glasses but he can’t read them from here. He guesses they’re names. 

He glances back down at the schedule and frowns to himself. He’s only met a few of Hana’s teachers once or twice at most, and he doesn’t recognize any of them at first glance. He takes an abortive step forwards and stumbles when the sheer mass of people in front of him overwhelms him again. He turns it into an awkward hop to the side to get out of the doorway, trying to make it look as smooth as possible. 

By the sound of the soft chuckle behind him, he’s not successful. 

Jack twists his head just enough to catch a glimpse of Hana’s guidance counselor as he comes to stand at his shoulder. “Hello, Mr. Morrison.”

“Hey,” Jack sighs. He turns to face him. “Mr. Lloyd, right?”

“That’s right. But,” Lloyd says with a smile. “You can call me Damian.”

“Oh,” Jack blinks, hand halfway out to return a shake. “Okay, uh. Jack, then.”

“Sure, Jack.” Damian nods to the schedule crumpled in Jack’s hand. “Having some trouble finding Hana’s teachers?”

Jack hums and shrugs, hiding his expression behind a deep sip from his cup. But Damian waits him out with a raised eyebrow and knowing grin. Jack can’t help a little smile in return. “Maybe a little. I don’t really recognize anyone in here.”

“Yeah, it can get a little crazy in here, even if you’re used to it,” Damian nods. “Here, let me take you around. I can point them out.”

“Thanks,” Jack says, trying not to show how grateful he is.

Damian threads out into the crowd and Jack keeps to his heels, following him to the far corner of the cafeteria. There they find four of the teachers for Hana’s core classes grouped loosely in one area. Jack scopes each of them out, biting his lip with a frown as he tries to gauge which of the lines is best to get into. But Damian taps his shoulder and nods toward another side of the gym. 

Jack nods and follows again, not bothering to try talking over the noise. Damian leads him to two tables sitting under the basketball hoop, where Hana’s programming and gym teachers sit side by side. 

The line for the programming teacher is five deep, like the others had been. But the gym teacher spins a pen between his fingers, flicking it into the air with some skill now and then. He’s alone. 

So much for skipping one. 

Jack gives Damian a nod and tries to swallow the lingering nervousness. What’s one more conversation, anyway? He takes a step toward the table but pulls up short when Damian puts a hand lightly on his arm. 

“I’ll be over there,” Damian says, pointing at a table by the gym’s doors. “Come find me when you’re done, would you? I’ve got a few things I’d like to speak with you about.”

Jack falters, mind buzzing through possible topics. They’ve spoken a few times since Hana’d enrolled, little status updates here and there. He can’t imagine what could’ve come up since their last conversation and tries to tamp down on his worry. He nods again. Damian gives him a reassuring smile and walks away. 

Jack turns back to the gym teacher’s table, takes a fortifying gulp, and steps up. 

Six awkward and exhausting conversations later, Jack pushes his chair back with relief and shakes the math teacher’s hand. He’s about to make his escape when she tilts her head and narrows her eyes.

“I will say one thing,” she says, and Jack bites back a groan. She’s had plenty to say so far, but at least it’s all been good. “Hana seems to have an unfortunate fixation with her phone. Texting in class is against the rules, you know.” 

“Yeah,” Jack says with a sigh. It’s not the first time he’s heard this today. He should have expected it, with the number of texts he gets throughout the day. “I’m going to talk to her about it.”

The teacher nods and releases him at last. Jack doesn’t waste any time and takes his first deep breath as he steps away. He’s mentally drained but does his best to process everything he’s heard as he moves towards the door. He’s pleased the teachers seem happy with Hana and her grades, though a few are worried about the times she becomes quiet and withdrawn. Her social studies teacher in particular seems overly concerned with her social development but Jack could only shrug when she drilled him about it. He knows Efi isn’t in that class, so it’s not surprising to him Hana would be more reserved there. 

From what Jack can see, Hana seems to be friendly with a lot of people while having only a few actual friends. He grimaces when he thinks of the axe murderer, although so far the kid seems okay. He’s still uncomfortable with her being friends with a random voice over the internet. But he knows Ana’s right, that it’s good for Hana to keep friends from before no matter how she made them. Jack sighs to himself. Maybe he’ll feel better about the kid after he gets Reinhardt’s in-person evaluation. Then again, Reinhardt seems incapable of disliking anyone.

Jack shakes his head to disperse the thoughts and approaches the door, remembering at the last minute to adjust course for Damian’s table. There’s still a set of parents sitting with him so Jack takes a few extra seconds to toss his empty cup and meander a little slower. By the time he makes it over, the couple stands and shakes Damian’s hand one after another before taking their leave. Damian looks up and gives Jack a smile, waving a hand toward one of the chairs in front of him. 

Jack takes the proffered seat and leans back, surprised to find himself relaxing more than he had at any of the other tables. 

“So,” Damian says, taking a mini water bottle off the stack behind his table and offering it. “How’d it go?”

Jack rolls it between his hands, grateful to have something to hold again. “Okay,” he says. He’s not exactly an expert on gauging a successful parent-teacher conference. “They didn’t tell me anything I didn’t expect to hear, I guess. That’s good, right?”

“Yep,” Damian says. “I always like it when there are no surprises. Makes my job easier, too.” 

“I bet.” Jack chuckles. He pushes his glasses up with one finger and does his best to keep the low level worry off his face. “But, uh. You said there’s something you wanted to talk about, right? Is it about, uh,” Jack pauses, waving one hand when his mind comes up blank. “What’s her name, the social studies teacher?”

“Mrs. Sanchez,” Damian supplies without missing a beat.

“Yeah, her,” Jack says, making a brief attempt to commit the name to memory. “She said something about Hana’s social skills, which I found a little weird. Then again,” he gives a little self-depreciative shrug, “that’s not exactly my forte so I might not know if there is a problem. She seemed like the only one worried, though.”

Damian is shaking his head before Jack even finishes his sentence. “It’s not that,” he says and Jack relaxes again. Damian then gives him a knowing little grin. “You didn’t hear this from me, but Mrs. Sanchez can be a bit…overbearing, on occasion. Believe it or not, Hana’s not the only student who develops a sudden case of reticence in that class.”

“Got it,” Jack laughs.

“I was hoping we could talk about her phone,” Damian says and Jack can only nod with a grimace. “I get it,” Damian goes on, holding one hand up as Jack opens his mouth. “I understand it’s important to her to be in contact with you, especially where she’s coming from. But unfortunately, we can’t just ignore the rules about phones in class. We need to find an alternative if it’s something she needs.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jack sighs. “I’ll talk to her. I just…” He twists the cap off his bottle and takes a drink, trying to think through what to say. “I don’t want her to feel isolated here, or to…well. To be worried about me.” He shrugs. “I don’t exactly have the safest job out there.”

“Oh?” Damian’s eyebrows bounce up a little. “What do you do?”

Jack shifts in his seat. “I’m a paramedic for LA county.”

“Ah,” Damian says with an understanding nod. “So, weird hours and no idea what you’re walking into on a daily basis.”

“Pretty much.”

“Yeah, I can see how that would be a source of worry for Hana,” Damian goes on, tapping a finger against his chin. “Well, I’m glad I put some thought to this ahead of time. I’ve got a suggestion, though I don’t know how well it’ll work while you’re on the job.” He pulls a few papers of the stack on his table and slides them over. “They’re making high tech bracelets these days, linked together with an app of some sort. Touch one and it transmits a buzz or pulse to the paired one.” 

“Huh,” Jack says, glancing over the pages. “Yeah, that would work great. It’s hard to text sometimes when I’m on a call, and I know that’s made Hana anxious a few times. But I could tap something like this anytime. Wouldn’t be a problem to wear it to work.”

“Good,” Damian says. “I’m glad you’re open to the suggestion. I get it’s important for Hana to hear from you, but I can’t bend the rules just because I like you.”

Jack’s eyes pop up from the pages and fix on Damian’s face, the rest of him almost freezing in place. Damian smiles at him, eyes warm. Jack can feel his cheeks heat up and he coughs, trying to jump start his brain.

“Right,” he stutters. “Of course. Thanks for looking into this. It’s uh,” he coughs again. “It’s a great idea.”

“No problem,” Damian says easily. “Anything else you wanted to talk about?”

Jack shakes his head, taking as deep a breath as he dares to refocus. “No, I’m good. I’m happy with how Hana’s doing.” He pushes his chair back and gets to his feet.

“Glad to hear it,” Damian says, standing as well. Jack reaches out for a handshake but Damian nods towards the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Oh,” Jack falters, glancing around the cafeteria. It’s still teeming with parents and seems a little busy for Damian to be heading out, even if no one’s waiting to talk to him. Jack puts on a smile, trying to channel the days when he used to be suave. Well, suave-ish. “Afraid I’ll get lost on the way out?”

“I’d rather not take any chances,” Damian says seriously and Jack chuckles. They walk through the building in a silence that’s surprisingly comfortable, and before Jack knows it they’ve reached the parking lot. Damian turns to him before Jack can step off the sidewalk. “I actually have one more question for you.”

Jack blinks at him, turning on his heel to face him. His brain immediately spins through things that could be going on with Hana that Damian wouldn’t want to discuss in a crowd. “What about?”

Damian clearly sees his growing panic because he waves a reassuring hand. “Nothing school-related, don’t worry.” Jack lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, shoulders relaxing from their sudden tension. “More like coffee-related. Or dinner, even. How does that sound?”

A whole new kind of panic lances through Jack’s chest.

“Like a…” Jack almost bites his tongue. It suddenly feels too big for his mouth. He swallows hard. “Like a date?”

Damian’s gives Jack one slow nod. “Exactly like a date.”

Jack tries to say something, but his brain is full of white noise and there’s no air in his lungs. He can tell his face is stuck in six kinds of shell shock, and the one working portion of his brain is mortified over it. 

“Here,” Damian says, holding out a slip of paper. His smile hasn’t wavered; if anything, it’s turning fond. Jack’s both grateful and amazed he’s taking a reaction like this in stride. “Don’t worry about answering right now, take your time. Just give me a call or something when you decide.” His smile becomes more of a smirk. “I’ll even take smoke signals, but I may misinterpret those. Possibly deliberately.”

That startles a laugh out of Jack’s chest, finally breaking through his mental block. He takes the paper and slides it carefully into a pocket. When he looks back up, Damian’s holding out his hand. Jack shakes it on autopilot.

“I like you, Jack,” Damian says, giving his hand a warm squeeze before letting go. “I’d really like to spend some time getting to know you better. I should head back in, but think it over.” He turns back to the door, giving Jack some space to regroup. “Have a good night,” he offers over his shoulder. 

Jack can only give him an awkward wave before he disappears back inside.

\--

Sombra hunches her shoulders and clutches her midsection a little tighter, angling her head so her artful expression of misery is in the secretary's line of sight. She shifts enough to draw attention and the woman glances over. Her face twists with sympathy and she reaches over to pat Sombra's elbow. "Don't worry, honey," she soothes, putting on a smile clearly meant to cheer her up. "Your dad should be here any moment. You doing okay for now?"

Sombra lifts her shoulders in a faint shrug, sinking further into her chair. "I guess," she says, taking care to keep her voice weak. 

The secretary makes a reassuring hum and slides a piece of paper to the edge of her desk closest to Sombra. "Just a little longer. I've got you all signed out, we just need your dad to sign it too. Some kind of flu going around your house, huh?"

Sombra doesn’t let her expression waver even though she's surprised. And instantly suspicious. "I think so," she says in a small voice. 

The secretary reaches out to pat her arm again and Sombra keeps herself from pulling away. "Well, hopefully you'll all feel better—oh! Mr. Reyes, perfect timing."

Sombra lifts her head slowly, allowing a little relief to seep onto her face as Gabe walks into the office. "Hey, kid," he says, fixing her with a look of such tender concern she has to bite her cheek to keep from laughing. "She all set?" he asks the secretary.

She pushes the paper toward him and nods. "Just sign here and she's free to go."

Gabe grabs the pen so Sombra starts painfully lumbering out of the chair. He then slings his arm around her shoulders before she's upright and helps steer her out the door. She makes sure to drag her feet all the way to the car. As soon as the door's shut, she relaxes in the seat and gives him a broad grin. "You didn't have to come get me, you know. You could have just called them."

"Oh?" Gabe says, sparing her a glance full of mock surprise while he turns onto the street. "I didn't know you wanted to take the bus so bad, and on your birthday too." He pulls to a stop at the light and reaches over for her door. "You want out?"

"Not a chance," she laughs, punching his arm. Then she folds her arm across her chest and puts on a scowl. "I just hope you made Genji walk."

She has to give him credit; Gabe's acting ability is top notch. His face betrays nothing but mild curiosity. "Why's that?"

"You know why," she says darkly.

He cracks a smile. "Thought you'd want us to have enough time to get everything cooked properly?"

"Yeah," Sombra says with a dramatic shake of her head, reveling in the still weird feeling of it being lighter on one side. "That's totally the only reason Genji disappeared after lunch. Couldn't possibly be the imminent threat to his life."

Gabe laughs. "Believe it or not, you might forgive him once you get a taste of the main course he's got planned."

"If there's confetti in that too, I'm going to murder him with it," Sombra grumbles. 

"I think you can safely assume," Gabe chuckles, leaning forward to see around the next corner, "that food is the one thing Genji will never sabotage."

"And I think," she shoots back, "you underestimate his dedication to causing chaos." Gabe gives her a wink and she huffs, though she doesn't bother to hide her own smile. 

"He knows tonight is off limits, or else," Gabe says. "No shenanigans at family dinner. After is fair game, of course."

"Of course," Sombra nods. "It better be, because I need revenge." 

“I’m sure you’ll get your chance,” Gabe says as he pulls into the garage. “At least you know to plan ahead next time.”

“He’s getting a preemptive strike for his birthday next year,” Sombra mutters. She slams her door shut and does her best imitation of Gabe, pointing a menacing finger at him. “But you did not hear that from me.”

Gabe shrugs and holds the back door open for her. “So long as it’s not at dinner, I didn’t hear anything.”

“Good,” Sombra says with a satisfied nod, toeing off her shoes. 

Genji looks up from the pot he’s stirring with slow strokes, brows knitted. “What is not at dinner?”

“Oh, nothing,” Sombra says sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes at him a few times. 

Genji narrows his eyes and gestures with wooden spoon, pointing it at her and then at the living room. “Then out of my kitchen with you.”

Gabe folds his arms across his broad chest and clears his throat, one eyebrow raised for emphasis. “Whose kitchen, you say?”

“Uh,” Genji stammers, eyes wide. “What I mean to say—well…”

Sombra chuckles and makes her escape, settling on the couch to relax while they finish preparations. She has no idea what they’re making or why they had to start so early, but she’s not questioning it. The sheer amount of banging and clanging coming from the kitchen probably shouldn’t inspire confidence, but they know what they’re doing. 

She has faith in them. She’s not sure how she feels about that.

Sombra shakes off the thought, poking idly at a controller to distract herself. Before she can start up a game, a thought occurs to her. She picks up her phone and starts scrolling through her message log. Genji squawks in the kitchen and she looks up, but nothing seems amiss. Gabe’s in front of the stove now. Genji’s over the by the island, green bangs flopping in his face as he layers something into a dish. Sombra shakes her head and decides she doesn’t want to know.

She taps open an old message thread before she can think too hard about it.

> sent << so any chance you’re free tonight? i decided it’s my birthday  
>  sent << we’re doing dinner at the house if you want to come

She sets her phone aside and selects a game, but a text alert beeps before she can log in. She tilts it with one finger so she can see the screen.

> amélie >> But of course  
>  amélie >> I will come as soon as I am assured the office will still be standing in the morning

Sombra grins to herself. She types out a quick reply and tosses her phone aside, glancing over to the kitchen when Gabe barks out a sharp laugh. Sombra hovers a hand back over the controller but she bites her lip, giving the two cooks a considering look. She should probably tell Gabe about the additional guest, to at least ensure there’s enough food. Sombra heaves a sigh and gets to her feet, marching into the kitchen.

Sombra ghosts up to Gabe’s elbow and tugs on his sleeve. He turns his head to look and if he’s surprised to see her appear out of nowhere, he doesn’t show it. “Hey,” she says, trying to swallow the slight nervousness that chews at her insides. It’s stupid, she should be able to ask for anything she wants on her own birthday. “I know this is usually a family thing…” She stalls, feeling her lip tug between her teeth. She hadn’t realized she’d started chewing on it. She yanks it out and smooths her expression. Gabe just watches her.

“Sure,” he says easily. “Family as in whoever you decide you want to count as family.”

“Okay,” Sombra says, drawing out the vowels. She tilts her head and looks up at him through her lashes, injecting a little extra innocence into her imploring expression. “Any objection to me inviting Amélie?”

“Nope,” Gabe says. Sombra’s stomach unclenches right away. “You’re driving this runaway train, as is birthday tradition.”

She lets her smile tug at her lips. “Good, ‘cause I already invited her.”

“Of course you did.” Gabe rolls his eyes with a grin, wiping his hands off on a towel. He tosses it at Genji when he’s done. “That’s fine, I’ll have Zenyatta pick up some more wine when he’s out getting Jesse. Pretty sure we’re still cleaned out from yesterday.”

“Gracias, Gabe,” Sombra says, allowing a rare moment of seriousness. Then she flits back out of the kitchen before he can respond. She’s not about to take the blame for ruining her own birthday dinner by being present during the cooking. That’s all.

She settles back on the couch and finishes starting up a game. Reaper jumps over the back of the couch and settles in her lap with a proprietary flop. Sombra gives him a few absent-minded pats, sparing one for Haku as well when he stretches out along the back of the couch, before focusing on her game. 

She’s lost track of time when the back door slams open and Peacekeeper charges in from the yard. Sombra hisses as Reaper leaps off her lap and vaults over Haku, who makes his own break for the stairs. She watches Reaper scramble effortlessly up the bookshelf, perching at the top to glare down at the dog. Peacekeeper plants himself at the base and stares up, tongue wagging. Sombra reaches over and gives his ears an idle scratch. 

She hears Jesse’s laugh before she sees him, though there’s not much warning. Jesse throws his arms around her and bodily hauls her up over the back of the couch for a bear hug. She squawks but doesn’t protest, wrapping her arms around him in turn. 

“Happy birthday!” Jesse swings her around in a few circles and Sombra laughs, squirming in his embrace now. He relents and sets her down. “So what is this, fourteen? Fifteen?”

Zenyatta steps up and gives her a much more subdued hug. Sombra takes the moment to do some quick thinking, running years over in her head. She’s not completely sure when her birthday should be—erasing all traces of her own identity means she has to remember this shit herself. And she’s spent a long time trying to repress a lot of details of her past.

“Fourteen,” she says. At least, she’s pretty sure.

“All grown up,” Jesse says with a dramatic sniff, reaching over to ruffle her hair. She swats him away with a laugh. 

“Jesse, quite harassing your sister,” Gabe barks from the kitchen before he can try again. “Get in here and make yourself useful.” Jesse rolls his eyes and gives Sombra another hug. She punches him lightly in the shoulder as she lets him go. Gabe directs him to the table and he bypasses Genji on his way, just as Genji pulls a pan out of the oven. The way his face falls is almost comical. Zenyatta gives Sombra a look that makes her laugh before he goes to help. 

Zenyatta puts a hand on his shoulder and leans in to look at the dish. “Genji, I’m sure it turned out fine.”

“But fine is not enough,” Genji whines, setting the pan on the counter with care nonetheless. “Today it must be perfect!”

Sombra shakes her head as she settles back against the couch but Peacekeeper distracts her, scrambling to his gangly limbs and charging the door with a series of soft whuffs. She leans back to look out the window and just sees the swing of Amélie’s long ponytail before the front door swings open. 

Amélie ignores the dog as she glides into the living room, pushing a long box into Sombra’s hands when she rounds the couch. Sombra takes it on reflex but just holds it, staring at it. Amélie’s low laugh fills her ears as she looks up to raise an eyebrow at her.

“I know birthdays may be new to you,” Amélie says, tapping the box with one long and perfectly manicured finger, “but typically one opens the gifts one is given. And part of this one may come in handy for dinner, so don’t delay.”

“Oh,” Sombra says. She peels the card off the top and slides a fingernail under the flap, pulling out a gift certificate. Her eyes widen at the amount listed on the card.

“It is the salon I frequent,” Amélie explains before she can say anything. “What do you say, girls day out? Perhaps next time your hair needs to be touched up, yes?”

“Thank you,” Sombra breathes, letting her mouth curl with the full force of her smile. She pries up one corner of the box and peeks inside, taking in the array of delicate little pastries that fills it completely.

“For dessert,” Amélie says with a rare wide smile of her own. “That is, _if_ you want to share, of course.”

Sombra laughs and tilts one hand back and forth. “We’ll see if dinner measures up.”

Amélie gives her an approving nod as Gabe sticks his head out of the kitchen. “Perfect timing, Amélie,” he says. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Thank you again,” Sombra says to her as they follow him, lifting the box for emphasis. She sets it out of the way before joining the others at the table. Her eyebrows bounce up with her surprise as she takes in the spread. The table is beautifully set, even though each place is pushed as far toward the edge as possible. The center is overladen with dish after dish with almost no room between the platters. Sombra takes her seat, a little unsure where to even start.

“So what is all this?” Jesse asks as he sits beside her. 

“Salmon with a lemon and honey glaze,” Genji says, handing the platter full of it to Sombra. He points to another few dishes in sequence. “Coffee-rubbed sirloin with a chipotle sauce, grilled corn and zucchini, and tri-colored roasted potatoes.”

Jesse whistles between his teeth as he loads his plate with the steak, exchanging the dish with Zenyatta for the potatoes. 

“You think that’s a lot, wait until we hit dessert,” Gabe chuckles, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Tiramisu and tres leches cake. Told you we needed plenty of time,” he says to Sombra with a wink.

“A worthy effort indeed,” Zenyatta says, picking up his cup and raising it in Sombra’s direction. “For a worthy cause.”

The rest of the table picks up their glasses and follows suit. Sombra feels her cheeks start to heat amid a chorus of happy birthdays. She gives them a regal nod and shoves a forkful of salmon in her mouth to avoid having to say anything.

The meal is delicious. Sombra is impressed by every dish, even sharing an amused look with Jesse when they notice Genji pulling a face at something. She can’t begin to pinpoint what displeased him. Sombra savors every bite and tries to swallow down the tight feeling in her throat each time. She’s having a hard time believing Gabe and Genji went this far out on a limb to celebrate a day she picked out of what must feel like thin air to them. That Amélie, Zenyatta, and Jesse would all drop everything to come celebrate it with her. But there’s a strange warmth building in her chest all the same.

“Damn,” Jesse says around a mouthful of the vegetables. “I shoulda had a birthday dinner at home years ago.”

“Nice try,” Genji smirks as he loads his plate again. “But your birthday is old news.”

“Besides,” Zenyatta says around a sip of his tea. “Had you asked for such years ago, you would have received one of Genji’s experimental…concoctions, I suppose is the best word.”

“Hey!” Genji tries to snap around a mouthful while Jesse performs a full body shudder. 

“You know, I almost miss the learning years,” Gabe says with a reminiscent smile. “Back when half the dishes were on fire and he still listened to me in the kitchen.”

“Only one of those things was ever true, my friend,” Zenyatta says and pats the back of Gabe’s hand. 

“The most interesting parts were his explanations,” Amélie says. She turns to Sombra and waves a hand in Genji’s direction as he shakes his head. “It was like one of those cooking shows on TV, he would stand and try to explain his dish. He had a very creative interpretation of the word ‘char’.”

“I hope there’s video,” Sombra grins at him. Genji shakes his head a bit more emphatically.

“You will never find it,” he says, voice dark.

Sombra leans back in her chair and smirks. “Watch me. But honestly,” she says and turns to include Gabe, “thank you for all of this. Both of you. Everything is incredible. And I appreciate the lack of char.”

“Very funny,” Genji says but he’s smiling. Gabe just raises his glass to her again, eyes warm.

“So why today?” Jesse says, leaning back in his chair as he pushes his empty plate away. “Any special reason or you just liked the date?”

Sombra looks down and quickly puts the forkful of vegetables she’d scraped together into her mouth, mulling over the question. There is a significance, but she’s not sure she wants to talk about it. The others might not get it, but Gabe and Jesse would understand enough about traditional Día de Muertos celebrations to pick out what the this day means, even if they might not get what it means to her right away. 

Día de los Inocentes, the day of the lost innocents. The time to celebrate children that have died. Well, Sombra lost herself a long time ago and chose to start over, a brand new life. It feels fitting to remember the person she left behind when celebrating the girl she’s becoming. But she’s still not ready to share that just yet.

She swallows the bite and gives him a shrug. “It seemed appropriate,” is all she says.

Jesse nods and the conversation moves on, though Sombra notices Gabe give her a considering look. She meets his eyes head on but he just smiles and takes a sip of coffee. 

“What do you say to presents before we start the sugar rush?” he says. Jesse and Genji immediately jump to their feet, followed by Zenyatta at a more sedate pace. Sombra stares after them, turning back to blink at Gabe. He grins and starts clearing dishes from the table. 

“I just told you all today,” she says, incredulous.

“Plenty of time,” Amélie says, picking up a stack of dirty plates. She waves Sombra back into her seat when she moves to help. “Birthdays require presents. Get used to it.”

Jesse reenters the kitchen and drops a bag in front of her before she can formulate a reply. He gestures to it when she hesitates, so Sombra huffs and pulls the tissue paper out. Reaper pops onto the chair next to her and tackles the tissue paper, pulling it beneath the table to start shredding it. Sombra lets him have it and pulls a stuffed animal out of the bag. It’s a black cat in a style very similar to Genji’s ninja bear, but this one with a little purple laptop sewn to its lap. Sombra laughs and gives Jesse a one armed hug in thanks. 

But he groans before she lets go and she feels it rumble under her ear. She looks up to see what’s wrong and he points to the back door. “They’ve always gotta one up me, don’t they,” Jesse moans but he’s smiling. 

Genji and Zenyatta are carrying in a giant piece of furniture, though it’s not until they set it upright that she can tell what it is: a cat tower. It looks handcrafted. Sombra gapes at it.

Reaper, on the other hand, wastes no time. He picks up the bulk of his tissue paper prize in his mouth and darts into the biggest cavern at the base. “There’s one seal of approval,” Genji laughs, straightening up just as Haku darts into the room and scurries up his pant leg. He climbs all the way up to his shoulder to examine the tower. Genji scratches behind his ears and turns to Sombra. “But what do you think? Zenyatta finished it today.”

“It was originally for Christmas,” Zenyatta explains when she can’t get her mouth to work. “But we thought it would do nicely for a birthday as well.”

“It’s beautiful,” Sombra breathes, finally regaining control of her voice. “You…you really built this for me?”

“Of course we did,” Genji grins, raising his shoulder so Haku can jump onto a higher platform. Amélie startles when he hops by her. She watches Reaper climb up to chase him up to the top and turns to give Gabe a flat stare.

“Vous n'avez pas,” she says.

Gabe just shrugs.

“His name is Haku,” Sombra tells her with a grin and Amélie shakes her head. 

Gabe seems unperturbed as he strides forward to drop a box on the table. “Happy birthday, kid.” Sombra tears into it and finds a few components for the computer she’s building. She has no idea how Gabe even knew she needed them, but these are top of the line. 

She looks up to give Gabe a blinding smile. “Gracias.” She turns to include the rest of the room in her glance. “To all of you. This is more than I ever expected.”

Gabe pulls her to her feet with a warm hug. Then he jerks a thumb at the cat tower. “Where do you want this, your room?”

“Si,” Sombra says, picturing the best layout. “By the window, I think.” Jesse tips his hat and goes to help Genji and Zenyatta haul it up out of the way. Gabe gives Amélie a look, and she nods and goes to start getting out the dessert plates. 

Gabe tugs Sombra over to his office and puts an envelope in her hands. “Not really a present, but I thought you should have these,” he says.

She gives him a narrow-eyed glance and slits it open with a fingernail. Out tumbles new copies of her ID cards, looking exactly the same as the old versions. But at second glance she can see her birthdate is now listed as November first.

Sombra looks up in surprise, her eyebrows making a quick trek up her forehead. Gabe shrugs again. “It’s legal, I swear. I called in a few favors to get it done fast, that’s all.”

Sombra’s not sure how legal it can be in the first place when her entire identity is technically fake, but she appreciates the gesture. She clutches the cards in one hand and gives Gabe a hug. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s an important detail,” Gabe says into her hair, voice gruff. “You chose it, so it means something. It’s worth the effort.”

Sombra almost bites her tongue in an effort to swallow a sudden rush of emotion, tightening her grip on Gabe. They stand together for a few long seconds until Amélie rattles some plates in warning, signaling the return of the others as they troop down the stairs. Sombra steps back and gives Gabe the most real smile she’s worn in a long time. 

Gabe nods, eyes crinkling at the corners, and they rejoin the others for dessert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Vous n'avez pas - You didn’t.
> 
> MAJOR SPECIAL THANK YOU going out to sigmatimelord, who suggested the paired bracelets! We didn't even know they existed and the suggestion is perfect for Jack and Hana. Thanks!
> 
> And to everyone that just started college, good luck and have fun! But do your homework too. =)
> 
> So we had a fair number of comments about Sombra last chapter being aro vs. ace, and we will do our best to address it in more detail within the story more. But to give you a preview, she knows she is asexual for sure but she hasn't landed yet on where she falls on the romantic spectrum. She may very well be aro, but she's had a lot of shit in her past and hasn't sat down and soul searched that part yet. At the moment, she's not putting a lot of effort into differentiating between the romantic and sexual orientation. She just knows she's not interested in what's being modeled in front of her. We promise that we understand the differences between asexual and aromantic. =) El is aro-ace, while Nari is demiromantic asexual. We have a lot of the same concerns with the portrayal of ace-of-all-kinds characters and are doing our best to handle it with care here. If you have any concerns at all, please let us know! Or if you are curious and have questions about asexuality, aromanticsm, or anything along those lines, shoot [Rochnariel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochnariel/profile) an email or [ask](http://eledhiel13.tumblr.com) El.
> 
> skyerainbow: Welcome to AO3!! We're super honored that this is what got you on here. =)
> 
> Kangoo: We wonder that all the time, not gonna lie. And a tailgate is where people gather before a sporting event, hang out, and usually grill out. Very popular for college football, partially as an excuse to get drunk (since a lot of college stadiums don't sell alcohol inside). 
> 
> NOW GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP, PEOPLE. (jk we're still blown away people are enjoying this and your comments keep us going, thank you!)


	26. dating 101, long-buried pasts

Jack only realizes he's been staring at the floorboard under his hand without locking it in place when Hana clears her throat. He glances up at her to find her giving him a considering look. Worry puts a tiny wrinkle in her brow as she asks, “You okay?"

"Yeah," he says, sitting back on his heels. "I'm fine, why?"

Hana nods toward the floorboard, bangs swishing. "You just click it in, it'll lock," she says, as though the five minute tutorial Reinhardt gave her when they'd arrived this evening makes her an expert.

"I know how to install a floor," Jack growls, snapping the piece in place to prove it.

"Ah," Hana says with a sage nod. "So you were just choosing not to, got it." But the concern comes back in her eyes and she bites her lip. "So, what," she pauses and sends a glance over her shoulder at the stairwell, listening for a moment. But Reinhardt's probably still putting the finishing touches on dinner and won't be coming back up with it for a little while. "Are you having second thoughts or something?"

Jack blinks at her. "About what?"

"About this place," Hana says, waving her hand around. "About coming to live here."

"Oh," Jack shakes his head, "no, I'm not. Although I don't think they count as second thoughts when we haven't said yes in the first place."

"You might not have," Hana scoffs.

"Yeah, and who makes all the final decisions around here?" he asks with a mock attempt at a stern expression, arms folded across his chest. Hana points to herself and Jack laughs. "Nice try."

"I just let you think you're in charge," Hana says airily, handing him another floorboard. "But you are going to agree, right?" she asks, teeth tugging at her lip again.

Jack gives her a serious nod. "I am. But—" he says, holding up one hand when she lights up and bounces to her feet, "I will be the one to tell him that. So you can sit right back down, young lady."

"Ugh, fine," Hana huffs as she flops bonelessly back to the floor, but she's grinning. "Why do grownup things always take so long?"

"Because we're all too old to move that fast," Jack says, clicking the next board in place. "Now put all that youthful energy of yours to use and measure the next cut, will you?"

Hana picks up the measuring tape and scoots toward the wall Jack's approaching. "It's measure once, cut twice, right?"

"And here I thought you had a future in this," Jack says with a longsuffering sigh. Hana gives him a cheery wink.

"I think I'm best suited for the smashing stuff part," she says and knocks Jack’s shoulder playfully. They fall back into a steady rhythm and Jack lets his thoughts drift again. They inevitably wash up right where they’d been before, dwelling on a nice smile and a roguish sweep of hair. The twinkle in a pair of dark brown eyes. Hana nudges him with an elbow once more when he takes too long to set up the next row. "Okay, for real. What's up?"

"Nothing's up," Jack says, snapping back into motion. He locks two more boards in place before risking a glance at Hana. Sure enough, she’s still giving him her best critical look. Arms folded and eyes narrowed and everything.

"This is my 'I don't believe you' face," she says, freeing one hand to point at her expression for emphasis.

"It's a good one," Jack sighs, sitting back on his haunches again. They regard each other silently for a few seconds before Jack takes a deep breath. He's going to regret this. "Okay. So. You know Dam—uh, Mr. Lloyd? From school?"

"My guidance counselor, yeah," Hana says, full on squinting at him now. “Do you not like the idea of those bracelets? I think they’d be awesome.”

“No, I agree. I put in the order for them last night,” Jack says and she cheers. 

“Mine had better be pink,” she says, mock-threateningly, but she gives him a hug even so. Then she sits back and smirks. “Wait, does your phone even support apps in the first place?”

“Uh,” Jack says with a frown, “maybe?” Hana drops her face into her hands with a dramatic sigh. He punches her shoulder with a gentle fist. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? That’s not what I was thinking about.”

“Then what?” Hana says. She knits her brows and her next words tumble out in a rush. “Did he tell you something bad yesterday? Am I in trouble? He didn’t say anything to me today.”

“It’s not about you, relax,” Jack says quickly, shaking his head. Hana’s expression morphs into confusion instead.

“It was parent-teacher conferences, how was it not about me?”

“It wasn’t at the conference, it was—uh,” Jack falters when her eyes go wide. Yep, he regrets this. “It was after.”

“What do you mean, _after_?” Hana asks, incredulous. “You weren’t gone that long.”

“It was just,” Jack swallows hard, fumbling for words, “he walked me to the parking lot—“

“You needed him to show you where the parking lot is?” Hana asks with a frown.

“No! He just walked me out, because he wanted to ask me, uh—“ It’s his worst nightmare. Hana’s face lights up like the sun, her eyes widening and her mouth turning into a perfect ‘o’ in slow motion. Jack cringes. “Don’t freak out, okay?”

“Did he ask you out?” she breathes, almost too fast for him to make out the words. Jack takes a moment to steel himself. Then he nods. Hana opens her mouth and squeals in a register Jack hadn’t known humans could hit. 

“Ow, for the love of God, knock it off,” he grumbles, clapping his hands to his ears. 

“Jack, that’s awesome,” she shrieks, conceding with a marginally lower pitch. “This is so great!”

“Calm down, would you?” Jack pushes himself to his feet and dusts off his jeans, reaching for some water. “It’s not that big a deal.”

Hana pops up right beside him, hugging him tight around the waist and jostling the bottle. “Are you kidding? This is huge! We’ll have to get you ready—“

“I haven’t said yes yet!”

“What is all this commotion?” Reinhardt asks, thumping up the last step. Jack spins to face him as best he can still locked in Hana’s embrace; he hadn’t even heard him come up. Reinhardt balances a big serving bowl in one hand and a stack of plates in the other. He sets everything on the long kitchen island and gives Jack a reassuring pat on the shoulder over Hana’s head. “You know there is no need to fret, of course. I am holding this place until I have your answer.”

“What? Oh, not the apartment—“ Jack starts before Hana peels herself off and grabs Reinhardt’s enormous forearm with both hands instead.

“Jack’s going on a date!”

“ _Might_ ,” Jack stresses. “I _might_ be going on a date.”

“No, this is happening, you’re going,” Hana says and Jack watches Reinhardt gasp dramatically with no small degree of despair. Some days he actually misses his hermit life.

“Wunderbar!” Reinhardt crows. “When is this date? Who are you going with?”

“Mr. Lloyd, from school,” Hana chirps before Jack can get his mouth open. She turns to him and casts a critical eye over his dusty clothes. “And when, this weekend? Is that enough time to get you ready?”

“No!” Jack barks, momentarily paralyzed by the thought of meeting a guy who’s still a relative stranger, in public no less, so soon. “I haven’t even agreed to go yet, remember?” Then the meaning behind her gaze penetrates the fog in his brain and he narrows his eyes. “Wait, what do you mean ‘ready’?”

Hana and Reinhardt share a look and Jack’s heart sinks. “Jack,” Hana says with almost comical seriousness. “I’ve seen your closet.”

“Perhaps another shopping excursion is in order, do you think?” Reinhardt asks, nudging Jack’s side with an elbow. The force is enough to make him stumble.

“My clothes are fine,” Jack protests, scowling at the both of them.

“Shopping,” Hana says with finality, nodding. Jack folds his arms and deepens his frown. Hana fires back with the most well-crafted innocently pleading look he’s even seen, replete with hands folded just beneath her chin and fluttering eyelashes. Jack looks to Reinhardt and hopes he doesn’t look too desperate for backup. But Reinhardt just takes a subtle step back and gives the ghost of a shrug, making it clear it’s Jack’s decision. 

He looks back to Hana. She’s turned down the intensity on her performance, clearly trying not to overdo it, but the hope in her eyes looks genuine. Jack thinks back to their shopping trip in San Francisco, the single thing during that rough time she’d gotten excited about. Granted, it was pretty much the only somewhat light thing they’d been able to do while they were up there. But even so, her enthusiasm had been striking. 

Jack grimaces, images of innumerable future shopping trips dancing through his head.

“My clothes are fine,” he tries again, despairing at the desperation in his voice. Hana lets her face fall, tugging at the heartstrings even though Jack knows it’s an act. She almost gets her eyes to tear up and Jack has to admit, he’s impressed. He sighs. “But,” he says slowly, “I guess something new couldn’t hurt. Maybe.”

Hana’s smile is blinding. It actually warms his heart, right up until she starts talking. “Great! Now when are you going out with him?”

Jack buries his face in his hands and groans.

“Oh, relax,” Hana laughs, swatting at his shoulder. The slightly wicked gleam returns to her eye. “I can handle that part for you, if you want. I’ll pick a day and tell him tomorrow—“

“You will not,” Jack snaps, shoving his glasses back in place.

Reinhardt laughs. “Now, now,” he says, setting his big hand on Hana’s shoulder and steering her to the kitchen with a gentle push. “One thing at a time, yes? Don’t overwhelm the poor man.” Jack takes a minute to breathe deeply before he follows. Oh, yeah. He regrets everything.

Hana graciously lets the subject drop over dinner, due in no small part to Reinhardt taking pity on him and asking her about their plans for Saturday’s game thing. It’s the perfect choice. It keeps her distracted well beyond the meal, so Reinhardt tows her over to the bathroom to keep laying down tile and leave Jack in peace. 

He tries to get back into his earlier rhythm, but his thoughts keep drifting in an entirely unhelpful direction. Now that Hana seems dead set on making this date a reality, a cold thread of anxiety settles in his gut. The last time he’d dated had been…well. 

Jack swallows hard at the thought. Gabe.

It’s a stretch to actually call it dating, considering they’d never discussed it out loud. And that there’d been all sorts of rules against it in the Army. But it’d meant something to Jack. It still does, even with how it ended. It doesn’t help that the end of their ‘relationship’ had also been the end of Jack’s career, and pretty much the entire future he’d had in mind. Talk about the textbook definition of going up in flames. 

Jack scowls to himself, slamming the next board in place with far more force than necessary. He flinches at the crack and sits still, head down as he takes a deep breath. But will power somehow doesn’t magically reattach the tongue that snapped off the board with his rough treatment. Jack glances over his shoulder into the bathroom and lets out a silent sigh of relief. It doesn’t look like either of the others noticed. He tosses the broken board into the scrap pile and discretely pulls a replacement over, installing it with a much greater amount of care.

The thing is, if Jack allows himself a moment of honesty, there’s a part of him that misses Gabe. Misses the good-natured jabs, the roughhousing, the surprising tenderness of his touch. Misses waking up next to him whenever they could be reasonably sure no one would notice. He still remembers those mornings after rough assignments with perfect clarity, reassuring each other they’d made it through together. He misses Gabe so much it leaves a hole in his chest, one it feels like nothing can fill even six years later.

Jack just doesn’t think he can ever forgive him. No matter how much he misses the man.

He bites down on his tongue so hard he tastes a little blood but applies the next board with gentleness. At least he can probably be sure dating Damian will be very different: a peaceful, civilian setting where they can be openly out together, Damian’s relaxed sort of charm, his unfailing politeness. Little chance of life-threatening violence. A nice, normal relationship.

Jack wonders if that’s part of his worry. Normal isn’t really his cup of tea. But it might be worth a shot. Might even help him finally get over Gabe.

He tries to swallow down his anxiety and relax. At least he can be reasonably sure nothing will end up on fire this time.

He completes his last row and joins Hana and Reinhardt in the bathroom, the three of them finishing out the tiling in short order. Jack straightens up and feels his knees creak, groaning a little as he stretches his back. Reinhardt lumbers to his feet, pretending to use Hana for leverage as she rolls her eyes at them. 

“We have done well,” Reinhardt says, his hands on his hips and his chest thrown out with pride as he surveys the bathroom and the open room beyond. 

Hana mirrors his pose and gives an approving nod. “I like it.”

“I should hope so,” Jack says, wincing internally at the roughness to his voice. “You’d better, after putting all that effort into it.”

“Well, it would only matter _if_ ,” she says with a pointed glare and pointier elbow into his side as they regroup in the kitchen, “we were going to live here. Wouldn’t it?”

Jack glares right back before shooting a glance at Reinhardt, who adopts an air of studied neutrality and pretends to find the far wall fascinating for all its emptiness. Jack turns back to Hana with a stern look and points to the other side of the room, where the bulk of their tools lie strewn across the floor. She huffs and flounces off to straighten them up, displeasure clear in the dramatic toss of her hair. 

Jack bites the inside of his lip and lets his breath gust out in a sigh. He looks to Reinhardt and chuckles. His studied neutrality has morphed into studying Jack, with undisguised hope building in his eyes. Jack meets his gaze head on and nods. 

Reinhardt lights up but Jack holds up one hand to stop him before the bear hugs start. “I still say it’s out of my price range,” he grumbles, though he can’t bring any heat to it. “You’ll let us do the maintenance? And help you out elsewhere?”

“Anywhere you care to,” Reinhardt agrees with a dazzling smile. “The projects are only half of the draw, after all. The company is what makes it worthwhile.”

“Well, I hereby volunteer Hana for all of them,” Jack grouses, motioning her back over. She drops a hammer onto a pile with abandon and makes a beeline for them. 

“So?” she asks, eyes shining. She clearly knows the answer already. 

Jack reaches out and ruffles her hair, prompting a squawk as Reinhardt laughs. “Yes,” Jack says once she’s batted him away. “We’re living here.”

“Yes!” she cheers, tackling him with a hug before leaping to Reinhardt and letting him sweep her up and spin her around. 

Jack leans against the island counter and watches them with a small smile, breathing easier as the biggest knot in his gut finally starts relaxing. Maybe things will turn out all right with this guardianship business after all.

\--

“Never,” Mei says, putting extra emphasis into each word, “again.”

“Okay, okay,” Jesse laughs, holding up both hands in surrender. “I hear ya. But I really do appreciate it.”

“All that running,” she moans, dropping her head onto what’s becoming their corner table. Her hairpin clinks against her milkshake glass so Zarya reaches over her to slide it out of the way, then settles her arm around Mei’s shoulders with a comforting pat. “When you said frisbee, I thought it would be a nice game of catch,” Mei says into the table. “It was not a nice game of catch.”

“Well, it’s catch for sure, innit?” Lena says, trying to be sympathetic and failing miserably as she shoves a few soggy fries, dripping with vinegar of all things, around her plate. 

Mei just moans.

“Is okay,” Zayra laughs, giving her a squeeze. “Jesse is not allowed to miss a game again, yes? Then you will not have to play anymore.”

Jesse tilts his head sideways so he can look Mei in the eyes, ignoring Fareeha’s squawk of protest when he encroaches on her space. “I promise,” he tells Mei solemnly, “I won’t miss another game. You’ll never have to sub again, deal?”

Mei groans again, but it sounds relieved.

“Is this a bad time to mention Mark is thinking of dropping out?” Fareeha asks with a sly grin. Mei pops upright so quickly she almost cracks Zarya on the chin, horror written all over her face. “We might need a permanent replacement.”

“Perhaps I could help,” Angela cuts in, reaching across the table to give Mei’s arm a soothing pat. “I don’t mind running. But,” she cuts her glance over to Fareeha and holds her gaze, “I don’t know much about the game itself. Someone would need to teach me.”

“I think the team captain’ll be up for the job,” Jesse says, nudging Fareeha’s side with a subtle elbow when she just stares back at Angela.

“What? Oh,” Fareeha coughs, “yes, of course. It’s not hard, you’ll pick it up right away.”

“Danke,” Angela tells her with a warm little smile. Jesse can almost feel the heat from Fareeha’s cheeks as they redden, and she suddenly looks everywhere but across the table. Jesse kicks her ankle but lets it go.

He drains the rest of his own shake and checks his phone, grimacing at the time. He’d better get moving if he wants to get any of the studying he planned for tonight done. He applies the same elbow to Fareeha again and nods toward the aisle when she frowns at him. “Lemme out,” he says. She rolls her eyes but gets up, standing beside the table as he levers himself upright. Lena raises her eyebrows at him in lieu of a question as she slurps her glass dry. “I’m headin’ out,” Jesse tells them, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Gotta get some work done if I want to leave my dorm tomorrow.” 

“See you tomorrow, then,” Zarya says with a wave as the others echo her. To his surprise, Fareeha bids her own farewells and follows him out into the crisp evening air. 

“You, too, huh?” he asks, falling in step beside her. 

“What?” Fareeha blinks at him. Then she shakes her head, beads clinking. “No, it’s just been a long day. I’m just…tired, I guess.”

Jesse frowns. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“No,” she sighs. Jesse waits her out. She scuffs her shoes a few times as they walk and grimaces. “I mean, not really. Nothing real.”

“It’s real if it’s botherin’ you,” Jesse says, nudging her with one shoulder. “C’mon, spill.”

“Well,” Fareeha says, drawing out the word. “You remember Halloween? At the party?”

“I’m surprised you do,” Jesse chuckles.

Fareeha taps one temple, grin sharp. “I haven’t asked her out yet,” she says, glancing over shoulder at the diner they’d left behind. They walk the next few steps in silence when she doesn’t elaborate.

“Second thoughts?” Jesse asks, though he doubts it. 

“Definitely not,” she confirms with a shake of her head. “But…I don’t know how.”

Jesse blinks at her. “How to what?”

“To ask her,” Fareeha says. She brandishes her arms and gestures at the whole of the cracked sidewalk before them. “To even have a serious relationship in the first place. I’ve always been messing around before, never anything real. But Angela…” she trails off with a sigh. “She’s different, I can tell. I don’t know how to do this.” 

“Pretty sure you up and ask her if she wants to go out,” Jesse shrugs. 

“No, I have to do it right,” Fareeha insists. “The movies always make it look so perfect.”

“Well, there’s your problem,” Jesse says. He flicks one of her hair beads. “The day you take romance advice from a movie is the day you end up in trouble.”

Fareeha scowls at him and goes back to kicking the sidewalk. “It’s not like I’ve got a lot of other advice to choose from,” she says. Jesse raises an eyebrow. “I tried asking Lena,” she explains, “but she and Emily have been together so long that it’s second nature to them.” 

“I believe it,” he says with a smile. 

“It was just me and Mom growing up,” Fareeha goes on, a little quieter. “She’s never told me she’s aro in so many words, but I’ve never seen her show an ounce of romantic interest in anyone. She doesn’t know what to tell me. And Reinhardt,” she adds with a shrug, “he’s divorced. His ex-wife still lives in Germany, although I think they’re on pretty good terms these days. If he’s dated anyone else, I haven’t seen it.”

“Ah,” Jesse says as they come up to Fareeha’s dorm. He sits down on a bench in the wide yard in front of it and gets comfortable. 

Fareeha shakes her head and flops down beside him. “And our other friend, Jack—“ she cuts off with a chuckle. “Before Hana, I wasn’t sure he even knew where his own front door was.”

“Hana,” Jesse says slowly, thinking back. “From the tailgate the other week?”

Fareeha nods. “She’s his goddaughter. She came to live with him a few weeks ago. Now he has to go outside,” she laughs. 

“Fair enough,” Jesse grins back. “So what I’m hearin’ is you don’t got a whole lot of examples on hand.”

Fareeha sighs, tilting over to lean her head onto his shoulder. “The most successful relationship I’ve seen growing up is my dad. I spend summers with him every few years, up in British Columbia.” Jesse feels her shrug more than sees it. “His wife is nice. But I’m not really…I don’t know, close to them. This isn’t something I’d ask either of them, I guess.”

Jesse bounces his shoulder enough to get her to take her weight off and slides his arm out from under her. He lays it around her shoulders and pulls her back over. “I don’t think there’s any one right way to do this,” he says. “What matters more is what works best between the two of you, and no one else.”

“But—“ Fareeha starts, reaching up to swat his hat out of her way.

“But nothin’,” Jesse laughs, setting it on the bench to oblige her. He looks skyward for a moment, almost unable to believe he’s going to dispense dating advice straight from Genji. “A good friend of mine always says honesty’s the best policy with this stuff. Pretendin’ you’re somethin’ you’re not is the fastest way to set yourself up for disaster.”

Fareeha makes a face. “How does that help?”

“Try telling her up front you don’t know what the hell you’re doin’,” Jesse says and she laughs. “I mean it. I don’t think Angela’d give you a hard time over it.”

“But she deserves the best,” Fareeha says, though her protest is weak.

“And I bet you’ll give it to her,” Jesse says. Fareeha opens her mouth but hesitates, biting her lip. “The worst that’ll happen is you try somethin’ that don’t work, and the two of you’ll have a good laugh over it. Angela don’t strike me as the type to hold it against you, if your heart’s in the right place.” He grins down at her. “You keep waitin’ for some kind of perfect method, you’ll miss your opportunity. Better to take the chance in the first place, don’t you think?”

“I do,” Fareeha says, a little of her usual confidence seeping back into her voice. She tilts her head to look him in the eye. “You really think it’s that simple?”

“However it feels right for you,” Jesse nods. “Don’t let anyone else’s opinions on how it should be done hold you back. This is just between you and her.” Fareeha levers herself out from under his arm and stands up. She gives him a look he can’t interpret, smile tugging up the corner of one mouth. “What?” he asks, slapping his hat back onto his head. 

“Has anyone told you to consider a future in counseling?” she asks, laughing as he swipes at her. 

“Glad you appreciate my advice,” he grumbles. But he grins as she hauls him to his feet. 

“I do,” she says seriously and gives him a sideways hug. “Thank you, Jesse. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See ya,” he says and starts to head off, pausing when he notices she’s not going toward the door. “Hey,” he calls. She turns back to face him. “Your dorm’s thataway,” he says, pointing to the lobby.

“I know,” Fareeha says with a smile. “But I have a question that needs an answer. And a friend of mind told me there’s no better time than the present.” 

Jesse laughs and tips his hat. “Good luck,” he says. Fareeha salutes him and spins on her heel, returning the way they’d come. Jesse shoves his hands into his pockets and makes for his own dorm, whistling as he walks.

He makes a mental list of what he’ll need to study for his Monday exam, just in case Hanzo and Satya are using the room to work on their project. He feels a great deal more relaxed with Lena’s report that there’s nothing between them…at least not yet. Either way, he still doesn’t want to annoy them being underfoot. 

But when he opens the door, the room only has one occupant. Granted, Jesse notes as he stands in the doorway and stares, it looks like an army trooped through Hanzo’s side and left a churned up disaster zone in its wake. And it may have been an army of one who looks like he’s still at it. Jesse watches as Hanzo tears through a stack of papers on his desk, tossing them haphazardly in his wake, before going to the top drawer and rifling through it with abandon. 

Jesse frowns to himself. Hanzo must have lost something, and it must have been important. He looks frantic. 

“Hey,” Jesse says gently, tossing his hat onto his desk chair and stepping over. “You need some help?”

Hanzo startles and turns, giving him a little bow in greeting almost as an afterthought. “Hello,” he says, making a visible effort to compose himself. “No, I—well.” Hanzo pauses to glance over his side of the room. Jesse takes advantage of his moment of distraction to take a deep breath and tell the flutter in his chest that this is not the time. Hanzo turns back to Jesse with a little frown. “You are aware I kept a small figure on my desk, are you not?”

“The little ferret-dragon thingy,” Jesse says and nods, deciding up front is the best way to go despite the pains Hanzo’d gone to keep the thing hidden.

“Yes,” Hanzo sighs, raking his gaze over his desk again. “I began to, hm,” he continues, cheeks turning slightly pink with embarrassment, “to straighten up, and I realized it has disappeared. And I cannot think where—“

Jesse tilts his head, furrowing his brow as he watches Hanzo’s face turn almost white in an instant. Before he can ask, Hanzo darts past him into the hall. Jesse spins on his heels and follows, grunting while he scrambles up the stairs after him. “Are you climbin’ the damn walls?” Jesse grumbles to himself as he finally reaches the top, careful to keep the top door propped open as he steps out onto the roof.

He catches up with Hanzo in the exact spot he’d found him just a week ago. Hanzo’s staring at the little ledge that borders the roof, jaw clenched. Jesse almost reaches out to him but pulls his hand back at the last minute, eyes drifting over the painfully tense lines in his neck and shoulders. 

Hanzo surprises him, breaking the silence before Jesse can think of a question that doesn’t sound stupid. “I brought it here with me that night, did I not?” he asks, but Jesse doesn’t think he requires an answer. Now that he’s thinking about it, he remembers the little figure sitting right there on the ledge. And sure enough, it’s empty now. A memory tugs at the back of his mind but refuses to form before Hanzo speaks again and dispels it. “I should not have done so. I knew better, and brought it regardless. Now it is lost to me.” 

Jesse’s heart twists a little at his tone. It doesn’t sounds like he’s speaking entirely about the little statue. “Well, any chance we could replace it? Where’d you get it?”

“No,” Hanzo says, quiet as a sigh. “I purchased it Japan, years ago. And…it is not the figure itself that made it unique. I will not find its like. Even if I did, it would not—,” Hanzo stops himself, looking sharply down and taking a measured breath. 

Jesse nods, shoulders slumping. It must have belonged to his brother, then. 

He watches Hanzo frown at the ledge and tries to think back to that night. He remembers having his hands full trying to keep Hanzo upright and get both of them down the stairs in one piece, but he can’t remember either of them making a grab for the statue when they’d gone to leave. A sudden gust of wind plasters his serape against his chest and Jesse swipes one tattered edge out of his face, glad he hadn’t been wearing one that night. That would’ve been hell trying to wrangle Hanzo and—

Jesse snaps his fingers, startling Hanzo out of some sort of reverie. “Wait a minute,” he says but he’s too caught up chasing the memory to keep talking. Instead, he pivots and makes for the access door, pausing only long enough to make sure Hanzo’s following. Jesse hops down the stairs two at a time and dashes for their room. 

He barely hears Hanzo enter the room behind him, too busy rummaging through his closet until his hand lands on the jacket he’d worn to Genji’s birthday dinner at last. He yanks it out and rifles through the pockets, extracting the little figurine with a triumphant, “Aha!” He turns to Hanzo with a grin and offers him the statue with utmost care. 

Hanzo stands frozen, staring at his open palm with wide eyes. Jesse waits him out and after a moment, Hanzo reaches out with a slow hand and takes the statue. He just holds it, staring at it like he’s not sure it’s real. 

Jesse clears his throat and turns back to his closet. “I’m sorry about that,” he says, taking longer than he needs to hang his jacket back up to give Hanzo a little room. “I forgot I’d grabbed it well before we came down. I didn’t mean to keep it from you.”

“It is no matter,” Hanzo says. Jesse steps further into the room and sees him gently place the figure back on his desk. “I am glad you kept it safe,” he says, very seriously. He turns and gives Jesse a beautiful smile. “Thank you.” Jesse’s heart does a slow somersault and he clears his throat, only able to give him a sheepish nod. 

Hanzo starts reorganizing the things strewn across his desk so Jesse goes to help, collecting some loose pages that had fallen to the floor. The last one he picks up is the line drawing of the entwined dragons, still unfinished. He sets the stack on a clear corner of the desk and nods to it and the statue. “So dragons, huh?”

“Yes,” Hanzo says, drawing a finger across the page to trace an outline. “We—“ he pauses to swallow hard. “My brother and I both had an interest when we were children. I have drawn these two as my companions many times. My—“ Hanzo cuts himself off. “ _The_ family has…legends, of spirit guardians. They usually take the form of dragons.”

“Ah,” Jesse says, giving an impressed little nod. “Those legends true?”

“Of course not,” Hanzo says with a huff, folding his arms across his chest. His fingers linger on the fabric of his left sleeve, picking at it. “They are only stories.”

“Pity,” Jesse smiles. “Bet they’d come in handy.”

“Yes,” Hanzo says, though he looks away. He sounds a little distracted. Jesse assumes it’s high time to give him space and makes for his desk, setting out a few books he needs and cracking open his notes. But before he can sit down, Hanzo says, “Jesse.” He looks over his shoulder and finds Hanzo in the same position, but now he’s frowning. Jesse raises his eyebrows. “I know we spoke at length, that night. But—ah,” he fidgets a bit, looking strangely uncertain, and swallows, “the details escape me. Could you tell me what we discussed?”

Jesse gives him a grin, though he tries to keep it soft. That’s the politest he’s ever heard someone ask what happened after a bender. “Sure,” he says easily, turning to lean back against the edge of his desk. “You told me about your brother, mostly. A little of what happened to him, the poor guy. Your family sounds shady as hell, not gonna lie. But you didn’t spill any of their secrets, if that helps.”

Hanzo looks to the floor, one corner of his mouth twitching. But he doesn’t relax, a furrow still drawing his brows together. Well, more than usual. 

Jesse studies his uncomfortable posture before moving toward the kettle almost on autopilot. By the time he gets it filled and set to boil, Hanzo’s started straightening out his drawers with his back to the room. Jesse leaves him in peace until the tea steeps, turning over the problem in his mind. The only thing he can hit on is that Hanzo must be uneasy having spilled so much about himself, while drunk, to someone he knows comparatively little about. 

Well, time to take his own medicine. Honesty’s the best policy after all, right? He takes one of the cups over to the desk and sets it down at Hanzo’s elbow, hoping he guessed right.

“Did I ever tell you Gabe ain’t my dad?” he asks without preamble, slouching against the post supporting Hanzo’s loft with the second cup dangling from his fingers. 

Hanzo looks up sharply and studies him for a moment before giving a slight shake of his head. Then he picks up his cup, inhales some of the steam, and takes a sip. Jesse’s pleased to see a small amount of tension seep out of his shoulders as he leans back against the desktop.

“He’s my uncle,” Jesse goes on with a light shrug. “Well, I call him my uncle. Really he’s my mom’s cousin, but they were pretty close growin’ up. Close enough she had him listed as the guy to take me if anythin’ happened to her.” Jesse pauses to take a sip, tamping down on his grimace, and watches Hanzo’s eyebrows bounce up his forehead. 

“I am sorry for your loss,” Hanzo says quietly and Jesse shrugs, though he chews on his lip as he does it.

“It was years ago. And I guess my dad died before I was born, or at least that’s what Mom chose to tell me. The hat,” Jesse pauses to jerk a thumb toward it, perched on the back of his chair, “belonged to him. She let me have it.”

“That was kind of her,” Hanzo says. Jesse doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick over to the little statue for a split second. Hanzo swallows and says, “It is important to remember the past.”

“Even the bad stuff,” Jesse says agreeably. Hanzo grimaces but Jesse goes on before he can say anything. “I was a real dumbass when it happened, you know. I was just about ten, I think? She got real sick but kept sayin’ she was fine. I knew she weren’t, but I couldn’t do nothin’ about it.” Jesse frowns, looking aside into the memory. “I think she didn’t realize how bad off she was herself, until it was too late. And instead of bein’ helpful, I just got angry. Got in a bunch of trouble, gave her hell on top of all she was goin’ through. A real shit.” 

“Jesse,” Hanzo says sternly, “you could not have been expected to save her. It is only natural that you were angry.”

“Woulda been one thing if it’d just been slaps on the wrist from school or the neighbors,” Jesse says, steeling himself for what he needs to say next. “But I was dumb, with an attitude. Thought I deserved better’n what I was gettin’. And I was small enough to fit into places a lot of folks couldn’t.”

Hanzo frowns. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Got me noticed,” Jesse says with a rueful smile. “By the wrong people, you could say. They promised me a future and told me I could make a name for myself with them. They just wanted to use me, but I didn’t know any better. I believed them. So at ten years old I joined a gang.”

“Oh,” Hanzo says, voice soft. 

Jesse winks at him. “At least you had the excuse of bein’ born into it.”

“We… _they_ are not yakuza,” Hanzo rolls his eyes. But then he makes a face, giving Jesse a small smile of his own. “Merely something very close to it.” Jesse laughs. “But even so,” Hanzo goes on, “the circumstances of your recruitment are understandable. And surely you could not have done much harm in a local—no?” 

Jesse shakes his head. “It weren’t a small town gang, no. Ever heard of the Deadlocks?” He watches as Hanzo’s eyes widen and he nods. “Yep, they don’t hold back. They’re into some real serious shit even these days, as I hear it. I had a one way ticket on the fast train to a fucked up life if Gabe hadn’t come stormin’ in like a literal bat outta hell.”

Hanzo snorts, clearly relieved the story has a somewhat happy ending. “I am glad he was not too late.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jesse laughs. “He said he requested emergency family leave or somethin’, but I’d bet he just went AWOL and scared ‘em into cleaning up the record later. No other way he got there so fast from wherever the hell he’d been deployed.” Jesse goes to take another sip and thinks better of it before the cup meets his lips. “He hauled me outta the damn state by my ear, kickin’ and screamin’ the whole time,” he says instead. “I gave him hell too for years, but I’m grateful for it today.”

“As am I,” Hanzo says seriously and a bubble of warmth grows in Jesse’s chest. He tries to squash it and holds out his cup. Hanzo frowns at it so Jesse lifts it up again, inviting a toast.

“So what I’m sayin’,” Jesse says as Hanzo clinks their cups with a soft tap, “is there’s always the possibility for a bright future, even for people like us.”

Hanzo blinks at him, but his expression morphs into a warm smile before Jesse can get anxious he’d said something wrong. “Yes,” Hanzo says, almost to himself. “Perhaps you are right.” He raises his gaze to meet Jesse’s again and gives him an almost formal bow. “Thank you for sharing your story with me.”

“Anytime,” Jesse says, raising a hand to tip his hat and realizing at the last second it’s still across the room. He sweeps his hand through his hair instead and tries to make it look natural. Hanzo just smiles at him and he grins back, stepping over to his own desk. He sets the cup of tea he won’t drink down and plops into his chair, spreading out his notes.

He hears a chair scrape across the room as Hanzo gets down to whatever he’s decided to work on, but Jesse tries to keep his focus on his own studying. He fools himself for about ten minutes before he feels the need to stretch, to try to clear his head. He gets up to grab a bottle of water and can’t help glancing across the room. 

He’s relieved Hanzo seems relaxed, looking almost more at ease than Jesse’s ever seen him. He pauses with one hand on the mini-fridge when his eyes catch on the desk. He watches as Hanzo makes a few sweeping strokes across his drawing, bringing more life and movement to his dragons with each one.

Jesse grabs his water and shuffles back to his desk with a broad smile.


	27. ghosts of times past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...finally........after five geological eons.........................an update...........
> 
> also note, Jack's at work in the third section but it's pretty mild? more of a psa than anything else.

Gabe glares at the coffee maker. The coffee maker drips on at its leisurely pace, unconcerned. It seems oblivious that its continued state of existence depends on how fast it can deliver him caffeine. Or perhaps it’s secure in the knowledge that eventual coffee is better than no coffee at all. Either way, it’s slow. 

Does that old adage about watched pots never boiling apply to appliances? Gabe scrubs a hand over his eyes. It’s too early for philosophical questions. Right on the heels of another night of insomnia, sprinkled with a few nightmares for flavor, to boot. 

Genji’d torn through the house an hour ago like some offensively alert whirlwind, yanking all occupants from various stages of sleep with unapologetic cheerfulness. Granted, Gabe’s counting his state as ‘sleep’ by sheer virtue of having been horizontal instead of upright, level of consciousness aside. But he’s no happier about being dragged out of bed than Sombra seems to be about her abrupt departure from deep sleep. Gabe can hear her moving around upstairs and even the various bumps and thumps sound disgruntled.

In fact, the only reason Genji survived the immediate threat to life and limb from two fronts is he’d taken the hint, taken the dog, and vacated the premises post-haste. Gabe glances out the window. He can just barely make out Peacekeeper sprawled in a furry heap on the back lawn, recovering from the enthusiastic morning run. At least that takes care of his energy for now.

Gabe has no idea where Genji went after that, but he’s disappeared again. Could be to acquire reinforcements in the shape of the friend he’s also dragging along. He’ll probably need it.

Gabe abandons his staring match with the coffee maker to pull Reaper’s breakfast together when the kitten strolls into the kitchen. He sets the dish in its usual spot on top of the nearest bookshelf, well out of canine range. Reaper rubs against his ankle and climbs up to investigate, nosing around the dish. Then he hops back down again without taking a single bite. 

Gabe frowns. Maybe it’s just too early? The sun hasn’t even crested the horizon yet, after all. Gabe wouldn’t blame him, he’s not in the mood to eat right now either. Why the hell Genji wants to get there well before the doors open is beyond him. Gabe, for one, is already dreading the day. 

He tries to distract himself from both the thought and the continued lack of coffee by pulling out his phone and checking his email. The only waiting message is forwarded from his blog.

> From: soldier76@gmail.com  
>  To: elsegador@flordelamuerte.com  
>  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Advice needed
> 
> Thanks for the apartment hunting ideas. A friend of mine insisted we move into his rental, so we got lucky there. Just wanted to let you know.
> 
> Only other question I have right now is do the surprises ever stop? My kid’s guidance counselor just asked me out, I might be freaking out. Any chance you’ve got some advice on balancing parenting and dating? Or is that beyond your scope? 
> 
> But really, do you ever get a break? It’s been one thing after another.

Gabe snorts. Dating? Yeah, definitely not his area. That involves far too many questions and baring his soul in a way he just can’t do these days. All of which would hinge on finding someone willing to look past his scars for more than just a night anyway. Something he’s not motivated to pursue.

> From: elsegador@flordelamuerte.com  
>  To: soldier76@gmail.com  
>  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Advice needed
> 
> Nope. Welcome to parenthood. It’s one surprise after another. Hope you don’t have any heart problems.
> 
> And no dice, I’m the wrong guy to ask about dating. Better get some other sources lined up.

The coffee maker sputters out the last few drops as he hits send. Gabe tosses his phone onto the counter and pours the life-giving caffeine into the biggest travel mug he owns as Sombra shuffles down the stairs. She trudges straight to a stool at the island and flops onto it, face planting onto her folded arms.

Gabe grins to himself and tugs on a wayward strand of hair, just to see if she did go straight back to sleep. Sombra frees one arm to sluggishly swat at him with an unintelligible groan so Gabe leaves her be. Reaper seems to have no such qualms as he pads back into the kitchen. He hops up onto the island and makes a nest out of the sweep of her hair.

He hears laughter echo in the yard, and it still sounds too damn cheerful for the hour. Gabe looks out the window and sees two figures by the dim light of pre-dawn and what little washes out from the kitchen. One of them drops to his knees and dispenses a thorough belly rub when Peacekeeper rolls over toward him. Going by that, and the suggestion of green to the wild hair, makes Gabe think the intruders mean no harm.

Sure enough, Genji shoos Peacekeeper into the kitchen in short order, the second young man trailing behind him. “It is all right,” Genji says over his shoulder as they walk in. “Peacekeeper will not hurt you, he is very friendly.” The kid nods, though he’s still careful to keep Genji between him and the dog.

“Too friendly,” Sombra murmurs into the crook of her elbow. “So much slobber.”

“It’s good for you,” Gabe says, stepping over to set Peacekeeper’s breakfast down. “C’mere, ‘Keep,” he calls, to spare Genji’s friend. The dog perks up and charges over to his bowl. The kid visibly relaxes and steps up alongside Genji, resting a hip against the island. Then Reaper gets up, does a full body stretch that arches his spine, and moves to investigate. He stumbles a little over his long legs. Gabe’s pretty sure the damn cat is in the middle of a growth spurt. This time the kid holds out one hand for him to sniff, seeming much more at ease with the kitten. 

“So,” Genji says, watching the interaction with a fond smile. He claps his hands together with clear delight. “Are we ready?”

“Sure.” Gabe clears his throat, trying to dislodge some of the gravel in his voice from his sleepless night. He picks up the badges he’d collected earlier in the week and hands them over. “As soon as you prove you weren’t raised in a barn. Who’s your friend?”

Genji goes still for a split second, his smile dimming. He recovers with admirable speed and rolls his eyes, waving a hand that looks almost carefree. “No, I was definitely not,” he says airily but his voice doesn’t sound quite right. Gabe feels like kicking himself. 

Sure, Genji makes jokes about his own past and upbringing on infrequent occasions. But it’s easy to forget how much thought and mental preparation must go into them. It’s not something up for general discussion, as a rule. Gabe must be more sleep deprived than he’d thought if he’s forgetting basic things like that.

The new kid must hear the same thing in Genji’s voice that Gabe does. He gives Genji’s other hand a squeeze and takes over, giving him space. “I’m Antonio,” he says, drawing away the hand Reaper’s been using as a rubbing post to offer a handshake. “Sombra and I have met before,” he goes on, nodding to her although her face is still buried in her elbow. She lifts a hand just enough to send a languid wave in his general direction. Antonio grins and pushes a sweep of long dark hair out of his eyes as he turns back to Gabe. “And you’re Mr. Reyes, right?”

“Gabe,” he says and takes a long draw from his mug. “Nice to meet you. You been to this thing before?” 

“Nope,” Antonio says. He reaches back over to pet Reaper again when the kitten swats at his hand. But doesn’t break eye contact with Gabe, regarding him steadily. Gabe likes him already, giving him points for outright ignoring both Gabe’s scars and his gruffness. “My mom’s been stationed overseas the last few years so I haven’t gotten the chance. Thank you for the ride today.” He wiggles his fingers and laughs when Reaper bats at them. Gabe’s pleased to see Genji reach out to poke at his tail, his smile a little more real. 

“Not a problem,” Gabe says, topping up his coffee and clapping the lid on. Sombra sticks out her arm and makes a grabbing motion so Gabe takes pity on her and fills another travel mug. He lifts the pot in offering but both boys shake their heads. “How were you going to get there?”

“The bus,” Antonio says with a shrug. 

Gabe snorts and even Genji makes a face. “That would have taken twice as long, at least,” he says, shaking his head. His voice sounds much more normal.

“That’s why I said thanks,” Antonio grins, giving his shoulder a playful poke. 

“Although,” Genji starts with a longsuffering tone and Gabe almost rolls his eyes on reflex, “it would seem we will never get there at all, if no one is ever ready to leave.”

Antonio hums and shoots Gabe a devious look, planting himself on an island stool. “I don’t know, man,” he says, poking Reaper in the side and grinning when he flops sideways to slap at the offending hand. “Think I might want to play with this cute little guy for a while first. That okay?”

“I’ve got a thing or two around the house I wouldn’t mind knocking out,” Gabe adds with a smirk.

Genji’s eyes pop open comically wide as Sombra chimes in, voice muffled from her sleeve. “If you guys are serious, I am actually going back to bed.”

“Guys,” Genji whines with a full out pout. Antonio laughs and gets to his feet, bumping shoulders with Genji as he starts for the door. Gabe intercepts Peacekeeper when the movement interests him and shoos him into the living room. Then he taps a foot against Sombra’s stool and chuckles at her groan, but she grabs her mug in a death grip and follows him outside without further protest. 

Gabe snags Genji’s sleeve before he gets to the door and tugs him to a stop. “I’m sorry, kid. I should’ve thought before I opened my damn mouth.”

Genji shakes his head with a lopsided smile. “I am fine, Gabe. I have moved beyond the sting of such reminders.” He shrugs a little, gaze flickering aside. “It was more the…surprise, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Gabe sighs, gathering him in a hug. “Nobody likes unexpected reminders of things they’d rather forget. I get it.”

Genji hugs him back and then all but hauls him out of the house and over to the car. Gabe laughs, grateful yet again that Genji got a second chance at life and Zenyatta had the chance to help him. These days he can barely see the angry eleven year old that’d made a point of running away from every single damn placement Gabe had found for him in the young man dragging him by the hand with a grin. Gabe settles into the driver’s seat and doesn’t bother to curb his smile as he watches Genji scoot across the back seat until he’s leaning into Antonio’s side. Antonio makes a token protest and tries to swat him off once before pulling out his trapped arm and laying it around Genji’s shoulders. Gabe checks to make sure they’re both buckled and leaves them be.

Sombra seems to have resumed her nap with enthusiasm, curled up almost into a ball in the front seat. Gabe can hear the boys murmuring to each other and glances back to find them bent over Genji’s phone. He takes the relative silence as a blessing as he navigates through traffic, especially the worse it gets as they approach Anaheim. Genji leans forward once they get close to direct Gabe to the best parking garage, taking a moment to wake Sombra by poking her in the ear and cackle when she punches him. 

“Where to?” Gabe asks, straightening out his beanie while the others climb out of the car.

“Breakfast before anything,” Sombra says and the boys chime in their agreement. So Gabe leads them down to a row of food trucks parked along the street and almost stops in his tracks. Genji herds him into a line for one truck and the four take a moment to appreciate the fantastic display of costumes spread amongst the crowd waiting for the doors to open. Gabe’s impressed by the levels of intricacy, fingers itching to get a look at how they’re made and take notes. If the kids had told him there was a costume component to this whole thing, he’d have been way more on board with this convention from the start.

Genji gives him a sly grin as he checks his phone, elbowing him with his free arm. “Think you would be willing to help us out next year?” he asks as though he can read Gabe’s mind.

Gabe folds his arms and tries to force his expression back into grumpiness. “We’ll see,” he growls and Genji laughs. Gabe gives him a light shove toward the window to place his order with the other two.

Breakfast acquired, Genji leads them toward the door. “Lúcio has found the friend he is meeting,” Genji tells them around a mouthful of breakfast burrito. He balances his phone in one hand and taps at it with his thumb. “They have staked out a place in line and invite us to join them.”

Sombra swallows her bite and points. “I think I see him. That’s him over there, right?” 

Gabe looks over to see a kid in a wheelchair waving with enthusiasm, dreadlocks bouncing. Genji waves back and jogs over, tugging Antonio along with Sombra in their wake. Gabe follows at a much more sedate pace, watching his three greet Lúcio and a brown haired girl standing next to him. Gabe squints, trying to decide if she’s actually wearing pink war paint on her cheeks or not, when his attention is arrested by the mountain of a man standing behind them.

He towers over all of the kids, huge fists planted on his hips and a broad smile stretching out his white beard. His height alone is impressive, and it tugs at Gabe’s memory. It’s been twenty years, but he’s pretty sure his old instructor was that massive. A giant even among the other giants in the special forces. And yes, Gabe can see he’s missing an eye. Just like Sergeant Wilhelm, if his hazy memory is right.

Gabe’s heart starts to beat a little faster but he keeps his breathing even. He tries to yank his thoughts from the path they start spiraling down: his training days, his career, the disastrous end to it steeped in lies, betrayal, and actual fire. He tells himself this is not the time, fighting to keep his expression neutral. Besides, this might not even be the same guy.

But Gabe can see the moment the giant spots him. The man blinks, squints at him, and snaps his fingers. “Ah,” he says, voice booming and making Gabe’s teeth rattle. Or maybe he’s just clenching his jaw again. The man steps out of line over toward him, though he turns enough to keep the kids in view as he comes up to Gabe. “Captain Reyes, is it not?”

Gabe takes a moment to breathe and swallows once. He does his best to bury all of the memories as they surface with excessive force, hammering through his careful mental defenses. He’s right back there, his command yanked out from under him with no warning and the mission going to hell. Barely escaping with his life, if nothing else. The rank is the point that pierces his armor, a rank he has no claim to anymore. Not after taking the fall for that mission. His superiors made damn sure that was the end of him. And he’s moved on. He had to for Jesse’s sake, and now for Genji and Sombra.

“Not anymore,” he says quietly. He glances over at the kids and tries to center himself, doing his best to disguise his unexpected trip down memory lane. “Not for a very long time.”

“Ah,” the giant falters. “My mistake. Forgive me, please.” He looks away and Gabe takes a second to force another deep breath, running a finger across the textured pattern on his phone case to anchor himself in the present. He toys with the thought of texting Jesse but dismisses it, knowing he won’t get a response at this hour. Gabe blinks when the man sticks his large hand out for a shake. “I’m not certain you would remember me, but you were in my training sessions, yes?”

Gabe takes care to keep his grip firm and nods slowly. “I remember,” he says. 

Sergeant Wilhelm nods once and says nothing more of the past. He gestures back to Lúcio and the girl. “I am here with—ah, I see they have found friends! Do those young ones belong to you?”

Gabe looks over to see Genji playfully lunging after Sombra as she plants herself behind the wheelchair. Antonio and the other girl make ineffectual attempts to derail him while Lúcio keeps maneuvering his chair just enough to trip Genji up, all of them laughing as they roughhouse. 

“Yeah,” he says, drinking in every second of their carefree play. “Those are mine. More or less.” They step back into line to rejoin the kids, breaking up the game. 

“There you are,” Genji says, straightening up to give Gabe a look. Gabe doesn’t miss the way his eyes tighten before he cuts his gaze over to Sergeant Wilhelm. “Find someone you know?”

Gabe nods shortly. “One of my instructors back in the Army,” he replies, voice tight despite his effort to control it. Sombra raises her eyebrows and drifts to his side, leaning casually against his arm. 

“Please, call me Reinhardt,” Sergeant Wilhelm says, making a sweeping gesture towards the young girl. “Hana’s guardian is a good friend of mine, so I came with her today.”

Hana grins fondly at him and says something to Genji, but Gabe’s focus shifts to Sombra as she nudges his shoulder and murmurs, “¿Necesitamos irnos?” Gabe bites back a sigh. He’d hoped to control his expressions enough to conceal the turmoil roiling inside him. But Genji and Sombra are adept at reading him, even if no one else would notice it.

“Estoy bien,” he says with a small shake of his head. There’s no way he’s ruining this day for the kids, just because of a surprise from his past. He can make it through today.

Sombra snorts but shrugs, jostling his arm, and leaves his lie alone. 

Gabe looks up when something brushes up against his other arm. Genji stands beside him, drawing Antonio against his side and grinning as Hana takes a selfie with Lúcio. He jabs Gabe in the arm with his elbow again as he slides his phone back into his pocket, and shoots him another sharp look. 

Gabe takes a deep breath and opens his mouth to tell Genji the same bald faced lie he’d given Sombra when his own phone rings. He frowns and pulls it out, almost overwhelmed with relief when he sees Jesse’s name. He steps back and lets the kids close in front of him like a shield as he answers the call.

\--

Genji laughs as Hana rattles off a frank assessment of the StarCraft eSports match playing out in front of them. She has some very strong opinions on the strategies both teams are trying to use, that is for sure. Then again, after playing one short match with her earlier in the day Genji is inclined to defer to anything she has to say on the matter of StarCraft. Her skill and aptitude for it are nothing short of impressive.

But a tug on his hand distracts him from her rant and he turns, gracing Antonio with a smile.

Antonio nods over his shoulder toward the door. “I need a break,” he says, eyeing the crowd of people pressing in around them to get a good view of the tournament. Genji nods and steps carefully around Lúcio and Sombra to exit the aisle, leaving them to Hana’s running commentary. He lets Antonio lead him toward the back of the room. Genji’s stomach rumbles as they seek out Gabe, and he figures now is as good a time as any to remedy that.

They find him only a few feet away, leaning against the wall with arms crossed and beanie pulled as far down as it will go. Genji frowns. Texting the cavalry has been his only real idea so far, and he’s grateful that speaking with Jesse did seem to help. Still, Gabe has been quiet since this morning though he gamely trails them wherever they want to go, and talks when they drag him into conversation. But even then he says the bare minimum. 

Genji sighs. He wants to help, but so long as Gabe keeps insisting he’s fine there’s really nothing he can do here in a sea of strangers. He steps up, Antonio in his wake, and waits for Gabe to focus on him. “We are going to step outside, perhaps find lunch. Is that okay?”

Gabe looks between them for a moment before nodding, expression as grim as it’s been all morning. “Text me where you end up. We’ll meet you when this…” he waves a hand toward the eSports match with a faint shrug. Genji nods. He steps toward the door but Gabe surprises him. “Then after,” Gabe goes on, lifting his head enough to meet Antonio’s gaze, “it’s your thing, right? The developer talk?”

“For WoW, yeah,” Antonio smiles. “Sounds good.” Gabe nods and waves them off. Genji follows Antonio as he threads the crowds in the exhibit halls with a sense of relief, however small. For his part, Antonio seems to breathe a little easier once they’re outside on the sidewalk. The fresh air and sunshine make for a nice change from the packed rooms inside. 

Genji drapes a loose arm around Antonio’s shoulders and tries to act the part of shield between him and the stragglers wandering around outside as much as he can. They pause every now and then to appreciate some dedicated cosplays but otherwise make a beeline for the food trucks still lining the curb. They wash up between a taco truck and some kind of Asian fusion and Antonio stops.

“Is Gabe going to be okay?” he asks quietly, tilting his head. 

“Yes.” Genji hesitates a little before elaborating. “This is not the first time he has dealt with a setback such as this. Jesse tells me he plans to come home for tonight and tomorrow now. That will help a great deal, I think.”

Antonio gives him a slow nod. They place their orders and collect their tacos, wandering around until they find a free bench they can stake a claim to. Genji shoots off a quick text to Gabe and the two settle into their food. Antonio just about inhales his first taco, slowing to thoughtfully chew the last of it. “He’s been really nice to me today,” he says around the last bite. “I like him. I wish I could help.”

Genji wipes salsa from his fingers and reaches over to give Antonio’s wrist a gentle squeeze. “And it is a credit to you. Thank you. But as far as I am aware, the only thing that will help for certain is time. For now, we must treat him as if everything is normal and wait.”

Antonio twists his hand to grasp Genji’s in turn and doesn’t let go. They eat the rest of their tacos one handed, sitting together on the bench just close enough to lean against each other. They don’t want for entertainment as they wait for Gabe and Sombra to join them, what with the steady parade of cosplayers and photo ops passing them by in the mounting lunch rush. Genji snaps a few pictures and texts one or two to Jesse, snorting at the string of question marks he receives in answer.

Antonio tips his head sideways to lay it on Genji’s shoulder as says, so quiet he almost misses it in the rustle of cloth and laughter surrounding them, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Genji asks, genuinely confused.

Antonio raises a hand and waves in the general direction of the main convention hall. “You’re missing things because of me. You can go back in, if you want. I can catch up with you later.” He starts to pull away but Genji tightens his grip on the hand he’s still holding. 

“There is so much happening that is it impossible not to miss some things every year,” he says. “Right now, I would much rather be out here with you.” He tilts his head so he can give Antonio a smile. Antonio shakes his head a little but he’s grinning too, and he rests his head back on Genji’s shoulder as they resume their wait. 

It takes Genji a few minutes to notice that Antonio isn’t just lightly massaging his hand as they sit together. The patterns he’s making with his thumb are more deliberate, running it along one of the multiple thick, puckered scars that span the tops of his hands with gentle sweeps. The motion is too deliberate to be unconscious but Antonio doesn’t say anything.

“You may ask,” Genji says after watching him for a minute. 

Antonio sits up a little and pulls Genji’s arm into his lap, flipping it over to trace the thinner surgical scars that line his forearm. But he shakes his head. “You don’t need to tell me.”

Genji considers the offer, watching the hypnotic movement Antonio’s hands. He knows he has no obligation to say anything on the matter, and that Antonio will likely never demand the story. But the light sensation of his fingers against his forearm is almost ticklish, itching in a faint way to match the itch inside his chest to speak. Genji almost wants to air out the secret place he keeps everything locked away in his mind. Partly due to necessity; the deal he made with the family to keep them out of his life hinges on his silence regarding the more sensitive details. But maybe it has something to do with Gabe’s comment this morning. Genji wants to say something to someone, however little.

He looks down at his other hand as he thinks. The thick scars from the attacks he suffered both before and after he ran away mostly cover the evidence of the procedures required to fix his hands. The scarring on his wrist is less pronounced, that surgeon having done his best to minimize the mark left by his work. It couldn’t have been easy—both of his wrists had to be essentially rebuilt, and the bones of his fingers pieced back together. The rest of the visible damage is covered by his clothes, but Genji knows he’s very lucky. It could have been so much worse. Hell, he’s lucky to be alive. He can handle a few scars for that. 

Now, anyway. Most days.

Truth be told, he has himself to blame for the severity of some of the scars. He’d been under strict orders to rest and minimize exertion, to help with the recovery. But at that time, in that head space, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He could not force himself to stay with those families, those nice and seemingly perfect lives. Those normal households. It just wasn’t going to happen. 

But he’s in a good place now. He couldn’t be more grateful for Gabe and Zenyatta, helping him heal both in body and in mind. He feels like he might be ready to start talking more freely about his past. The parts he can mention, at least. 

“I was lucky,” Genji starts, gently extracting his hand from Antonio’s grip and rubbing at his joints. “They were able to fix…” Genji stops and clears his throat. He draws his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around his knees. “They could fix most of the damage.”

Antonio places a light hand on Genji’s back, and he leans into the contact.

“I ran away from home.” Genji says and snorts. “With good reason, to tell the truth.” He takes another deep breath. “But I was eleven and, well…arrogant.”

“You were eleven.” Antonio repeats, as though that explains away his behavior.

“Yes, but even so.” Genji pauses, trying to form the words. “I should have known better. I should have been… better.” Genji looks at the ground, trying to block out the crowd circling around them. “I had a half-formed plan and expected no difficulties. Instead, it was rife with them. Which, honestly, I should have expected. Considering from whom I was…” Genji swallows. “I knew what they could do. I knew better.” Genji holds his hands out in front of him. “This is the result. Or at least, part of the result.” Genji flips his hands over, seeing them as they looked in the past. Swathed in bandages almost to the elbow, useless.

Antonio reaches out slowly and traces one of the scars again. The dissonance of feeling skin on skin while he sees bandages shakes him out of his reverie. He looks up to see Antonio’s brow is furrowed, his mouth tugging into a slight frown of concern and silent question.

Genji takes a deep breath and wiggles his fingers. “Mostly rebuilt, as you see. There are metal plates and pins holding most of them together.” The tightness in his throat eases as he contemplates the aftermath and not the event itself, oddly. “I spent a long time relearning how to use them.”

Antonio bumps against him with his shoulder. “Cyborg ninja.”

Genji grins. “Exactly.”

“Is it just your hands?” Antonio asks, voice soft. The first real question he’s asked.

Genji wants to lie, to soften the truth. But he steels his jaw. “No.”

Antonio nods and says nothing else. Genji’s certain he has more questions, but is more grateful than he would have imagined to let the subject drop. He’s glad he was able to say as much as he did, but he’s at the end of his ability to discuss it. But perhaps, if he made it this far, he could speak with Zenyatta about it as well. Later. Zenyatta has never failed to help him and guide him even when he least expected it or wanted it. Yes, maybe that is a good idea.

But for now, Genji leans against Antonio’s side and just watches the people go by.

\--

Jack groans as he hears dispatch calling them out straight from the hospital. Again. It’s bad enough he has to work today, while Hana is off hanging out with potential axe-murderers. Although he has to admit, however grudgingly, that the guy looks like a normal kid from Hana’s pictures. And he trusts Reinhardt to protect her.

But what rubs him the wrong way is that he’s not even at his normal station in his normal truck with Zenyatta. Instead, he’s stuck right next to UCLA on a game day with a couple of incompetent idiots for partners. Seriously, Jack would be concerned to let them handle a simple BLS interfacility transfer at this point. All they’ve been doing for the past few hours is hauling drunks out of tailgates, and he doesn’t even trust them with that on their own. He can’t wait to write up their evals at the end of the day.

It’s always nice having a third person on the truck, but it would be better if Jack could expect either of them to do anything. Anything at all. Including getting into the truck in a timely manner when they’re called out. He has no idea how these morons managed to get licensed.

“Does anyone else want to do their jobs today?” Jack growls without looking up from his next report. He’s too far behind, even with the extra five minutes sitting in the ambulance’s passenger seat waiting for them to get their asses in gear.

“We are,” one of them says as he slams the driver’s door, glaring over at Jack.

“It’s just another drunk,” the other pipes up from the back.

“No,” Jack snaps when the idiot tries to keep talking. “Shut up, Ryan. Just stop. Tom, fucking drive.” He stabs a finger toward the street. Tom rolls his eyes but finally turns the engine over. Jack had missed most of the radio call, too busy giving a nurse his report on their last patient, so he leans over to check the info from dispatch on the dashboard computer. 

Incapacitated. On campus, in the parking lot. Jack scrunches up his face in displeasure, pushing his glasses back up his nose. Ryan’s right. It’s likely ‘just another drunk’, but that’s no excuse not to do their jobs.

He shifts his focus back to his laptop with a sigh, trying to type as fast as he can. Hana would laugh at his streamlined hunk and peck technique, he’s sure of it. He bites back a smile as his phone starts buzzing just as he finishes the thought and he pulls it out to check. She's been sending him pictures all day, most with baffling captions. 

A lot of them feature a dreadlocked kid in a wheelchair who, according to Reinhardt's less frequent but way more informative texts, is the axe murderer. And Reinhardt seems to like him. Jack's somewhat reassured, but is stubbornly holding out judgement until he meets the kid himself.

Hana mugs for the camera in this newest picture, holding up some sort plush creature. Jack squints at the picture but he can’t make out any details about it on his phone’s tiny screen. He can barely see the other kid pulling a face in the background as it is, even with hair a startling shade of green. Jack taps out a quick reply and shoves his phone back in his pocket. 

He sighs as he tries to refocus on his computer, doing his level best to ignore his partners as they bounce down the road. The idiot behind him is making it difficult; his breath ghosts hot across Jack’s ear. Jack shifts to lean against the door, trying to put as much distance between them as he can without twisting himself into a human pretzel. It doesn’t help.

His phone buzzes again and Jack grasps for the distraction. Hana's holding up a different plush this time, making a ridiculous face. Jack squints at it again. He can just about make out the shape of what might be a wolf. And that a girl with purple tinted hair has joined the green haired boy in the background this time. 

Jack shakes his head. Back in his day, he would’ve been thrown out of school for hair that color. Not that his parents would have ever allowed it in the first place. Kids have no idea how good they have it these days. He starts typing out a quick reply, pushing all thoughts of the old farm and Indiana far away. But the phone buzzes yet again before he can finish. He opens the next picture and tilts his head, trying to determine if the emblem on the bright pink t-shirt Hana holds up is the StarCraft symbol or not. She seems absolutely ecstatic.

Jack chuckles. He goes to close the picture, ready to encourage her to buy it if it makes her that happy, but his attention catches on another silhouette in the background. No crazy colors here, just an imposing figure with arms crossed across a broad chest. The guy’s turned to the side, looking at something out of the frame. But there’s something weirdly familiar about him, triggering faint memories that always lie too close to the surface for Jack’s comfort. He’s wearing a beanie and has his hood up, shoulders hunched so he’s folding in on himself…just like Gabe used to do when he was upset. 

Jack stares at the picture until his eyes start burning. He can’t make out any of his features, and he’s sure it’s just a random guy passing in the background. But it unsettles him nonetheless.

He shakes his head and closes the picture, determined not to make a big deal out of nothing. He settles on a quick smiley face for a response, the only thing he has time for as they pull up to the lot. 

Jack casts an eye across the sea of people, trying to gauge the state of the widespread party. He’s pretty sure it’s an afternoon game so people should start heading into the stadium soon. And the call frequency should slow down once the tailgates break up. He hopes.

He slides his phone back into a pocket as Tom finally figures out where to park the ambulance. It buzzes a few more times as he hops out but he ignores it, his attention caught by the officer flagging them down. He doesn’t like making Hana wait but if this call goes like the rest of today, his partners are going to hang back as long as they can and make him take the lead. So much for doing their jobs.

Sure enough, neither of them take the initiative. Tom pretends to read the dispatch info with impressive attention to detail and Ryan bangs around in the back. Neither of their asses show any inclination to leave the ambulance just yet. Jack growls and pulls on a pair of gloves as he steps over to the officer. 

His phone buzzes one more time. Jack can’t wait for those damn bracelet things.

“What’ve we got?” he asks the officer.

“Eighteen year old male,” she answers, gesturing towards a kid sitting on the ground between a couple cars with another officer standing over him. She hands Jack the kid’s ID. “He apparently started hitting on one of the girls at a nearby tailgate. Wouldn’t take no for an answer and started getting physical.”

The officer nods over at a short girl buried in a thick sweater despite the mild day some ways away, talking to a third officer. And even so, the most arresting fashion choice of the small group around her is the cowboy hat, sitting atop the kid with his arm draped supportively around her shoulders. Jack shakes his head. He doesn’t pretend to have any fashion sense, but that is definitely a unique look. Even for campus.

“So one of the girls with them called us before it could escalate,” the officer continues and Jack refocuses. She gestures at the kid on the ground, curled into himself in a miserable little ball. “And here we are. No one wants to press charges, but this guy is definitely drunk. Blew a point one eight. He gets a night in the hospital for sheer stupidity.”

Jack nods and walks over to the kid, crouching down in front of him. “Hey,” he says, taking in the bleary eyes that aren’t quite focusing on him. “My name’s Jack. What’s yours?” 

“Simon,” the kid slurs. Yeah, he’s had too much to drink. Probably way too quickly, and probably on an empty stomach too. “Who’re you?”

“Jack,” Jack repeats, keeping his tone even. “I’m a medic with LA County. We’re going to give you a ride up to the hospital.”

The kid narrows his eyes in what Jack guesses is an attempt at a glare. “No. Don’t need to go. I don’t wanna.”

“Well, Simon, right now you don’t get a choice.” Jack sees his partners setting the stretcher up nearby. He tries to contain his shock that they’re actually doing something unprompted.

Simon struggles to his feet, wavering all the way up. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been drinking,” Jack replies, matter of fact. He starts to stand and is still halfway up, unbalanced, when Simon takes off running right through him. The kid hits him like a linebacker and sends Jack to the pavement, landing hard on his right knee. He hears something crunch as pain shoots through the joint and just hopes it’s not a ligament or the meniscus. He tries to ignore it and jumps to his feet, pleased his knee holds his weight just fine. He looks around and sees the officer he spoke with pinning Simon to the ground despite his struggles. She must have chased him down. He nods to her as he jogs to catch up, waving his partners over as he goes.

“Now,” Jack growls, trying to ignore the lingering pain in his leg as he helps hold Simon’s legs down when he keeps bucking. His knee is still throbbing, but hopefully it’s just going to bruise. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Either way, you’re coming with us. You’re going to the hospital to sober up.”

Simon’s struggles weaken a bit.

“The easy way,” Jack continues, “you get up and sit down on the stretcher and cooperate. You even get a bag for when you inevitably throw up. The hard way, we put you on the stretcher and tie you to it. And you get to puke all over yourself. Your choice.” Jack stares the kid down as he takes in his options.

“The easy way. I’ll go,” Simon slurs, the fight going out of him in an instant. 

“Good.” Jack loosens his hold and stands back up. Simon stays on the ground even as the officer releases him. The stretcher finally wheels over and Tom comes around to help. “All right, let’s go,” Jack says, gripping one of Simon’s arms. They heave the kid to his unsteady feet and maneuver him toward the stretcher. 

But Jack notices his face pale and jumps out of the way just in time to avoid Simon puking all over his boots. The stretcher is not as lucky. Jack shakes his head and breathes through his mouth as they situate Simon once he’s done. 

Drunk kids are the worst. At least the seasoned drunks usually don’t puke all over him or his equipment.

They get Simon loaded up into the ambulance and Jack climbs in after him. He stretches his leg out on the bench seat while Tom, with Jack’s prompting, grabs a set vitals and blood sugar. Does the moron even remember they need to check glucose level with an altered LOC? Seriously. 

“M’sorry,” Simon gasps in between heaving into the bag Jack gave him, as promised.

“It’s fine. We’ve all been there,” Jack says as he starts filling out the new report. 

Simon drops his head against the stretcher and closes his eyes. “Still sorry.”

“Hey.” Jack reaches out and shakes his leg. “Wake up, kid. No sleeping.” Simon’s eyes pop back open and he swallows hard but doesn’t puke again.

“I was stupid,” Simon moans, dropping his head back again but keeping his eyes wide open this time.

“Yeah, you were. Look, I’m not gonna lecture you on underage drinking,” Jack says gruffly as he copies the information from Simon’s license into his report. “It’d be hypocritical, for one thing. But seriously, if you’re going to drink, be smart about it.” Jack glances up and sees Simon staring back at him. “Eat something. Drink slower. And,” Jack says, infusing a mild threat into his tone and pointing right between the kid’s eyes, “make sure you take no for an answer.” He’s deadly serious about the last point.

Simon gives him a vigorous nod, stopping mid-motion and squeezing his eyes shut with a hard swallow.

“You’ll have way more fun that way,” Jack goes on, returning to the report. “And you won’t end up in the hospital which, believe me, is not going to be the greatest night of your life.” Simon doesn’t reply, too busy puking again. Jack leaves him to it and closes the computer, getting ready to unload as they pull into the hospital’s emergency bay.

It's not until after they get him transferred over to the ER staff that Jack remembers his phone buzzing non-stop just before the call. He pats down his pockets, trying to remember which one he stuck it in. Then he closes his eyes and gusts out a sigh, reaching into the cargo pocket at his right knee with a sense of dread.

Sure enough, he pulls out his phone. In pieces.

It's cracked neatly in two, split right along the hinge. The case on both sides of each piece is fractured and the screen itself is shattered.

He swears under his breath, heaving himself into the passenger seat and throwing the fragments onto the dashboard. Fuck. What now? The texts had probably all been Hana, and she’s going to freak out when she doesn’t get a reply.

Hell, Jack’s starting to freak out just thinking about it.

“Dude, is that your phone?” Ryan asks, a look of amused disbelief on his face as he points at the broken pieces on the dash.

Jack turns his best death glare on him. What else would it be? “No,” he snaps, acid dripping from his words, “it's a chicken.”

Ryan laughs but Jack ignores him, folding his arms and hunching into his seat. How the hell is he supposed to let Hana know he’s fine? He doesn't know her number, never took the chance to memorize it. And he can't remember Reinhardt's either. There was never any need, they were saved in the phone for a reason. Damn it.

Jack stomps out of the ambulance as soon as they pull into the station, slamming the door as hard as he can. He throws himself down at the computer and aggressively slams keyboard keys as he types up the incident report.

His leg feels pretty much fine now. He's sure he'll have a nice bruise from the concrete but he doesn't care. It's his phone he's worried about. He takes a single moment to appreciate the fact that he's worrying about a device he barely used two months ago before he goes back to pounding the keyboard.

Once his last report is complete, Jack throws back the chair and stalks into the bunk room. He drops onto one of the cots and tries to think, ignoring the faint noises from whatever dumbass show his partners are laughing over. If only he knew Hana and Reinhardt’s damn phone numbers, this wouldn’t be a problem at all. He curses himself out. He can recall the farm’s old landline and Yuna’s childhood number with perfect clarity. But he can’t for the life of him remember the ones that matter know. What the hell.

He's seeing yet another added bonus to Damien’s bracelets. At least with those, he could let Hana know he’s still kicking. But his order is still being shipped, doing him a whole fat lot of good right now.

The last thing he wants to do is ruin BlizzCon for her.

Then it hits him. Zenyatta is working at their normal station today, and he knows Ana’s stopped asking Jack to pass notes for the two of them. It could be because she’s satisfied he’s involved with Reinhardt and Hana, but it’s also possible they exchanged phone numbers. It may be a long shot, but it’s one he’ll take right now.

He sprints over to the station phone and scrolls through the index, looking for his regular station. He tries to tamp down on his impatience as it rings and rings and rings.

Finally, the call connects. “Station three,” Zenyatta’s calm tone comes through the line.

“Zenyatta, it’s Jack. Got a problem over here.”

“Hello, Jack,” Zenyatta greets him. “What seems to be the issue?”

“So, um. My phone broke on our last call,” Jack says, grabbing a pen and some scrap paper off the nearest table. “I need to get in touch with Hana but I don’t know her number offhand. Any chance you have Ana’s? Ana Amari, from the hospital, you know?”

“Ah, I see. I am sorry to say I do not,” Zenyatta says and Jack makes a face. “Is there some sort of emergency?”

“No,” Jack hedges, “I mean, not really. I just need to answer her, the sooner the better. She’s at that BlizzCon thing today, and I don’t want her worrying.”

“Of course,” Zenyatta agrees. “BlizzCon, did you say? Genji and his friends are there as well. I could give you his number, although the odds of them finding each other in such a crowd are likely slim.”

“Nah, that’s okay,” Jack sighs. 

“Is Ana at work today?” Zenyatta asks before Jack can devolve into further self-depreciation. “Perhaps you could try calling the hospital.”

“Thanks, Zenyatta. I’ll give that a try.”

He pulls up the hospital website. He can’t find a number listed for Labor and Delivery, so he calls the general information number. Four transfers later, he’s finally in the right spot. He listens to the hold music cycle for over ten minutes, hoping he doesn’t get called out the meantime, while he waits for the nurse who answered the phone to track Ana down for him.

“Hello, this is Ana Amari.” Ana sounds a bit out of breath as she picks up the line.

“Ana, it’s Jack.” Jack pushes off from his slouch against the wall and grabs for his pen. “Thank God you’re at work.”

“Oh, yes. This is absolutely where I want to be right now,” Ana says, voice laden with sarcasm. “Especially on game day.”

“Yeah, that’s great,” Jack rolls right along, laser focused. “Hey, I need Reinhardt’s phone number. Or Hana’s, if you’ve got it.”

Jack hears faint sounds of rummaging on the other side of the line even as Ana replies, “Why yes, Jack, my day is going wonderfully. Thank you for asking.”

“Ana,” Jack groans. “Please. Just get me the number.”

“I heard you the first time. I don’t have Hana’s, but here is Reinhardt’s.” Ana rattles off a string of numbers. Jack jots them down with relief. “Is everything all right?”

Jack hears the genuine concern laced through her words. “Yeah. At least, I think so. My phone broke.”

“Ah, yes,” Ana laughs warmly. “And Reinhardt is taking Hana to meet her axe murderer today, I remember.” Jack chuckles. “Well, you better call Reinhardt and make sure they haven’t been chopped into hundreds of tiny pieces,” Ana says and hangs up on him before he can reply.

Jack shakes his head and dials Reinhardt’s number. He can almost feel his blood pressure drop when the big man picks up on the first ring.

“Hey Reinhardt,” Jack says. “Can I talk to Hana?”

\--

Hana grits her teeth and resolutely doesn’t look at the phone she clutches in tight fingers. She shuffles forward when the line moves up, draping the shirt she wants to buy along her arm so she can admire the design instead.

It’s not a big deal. So Jack hasn’t responded in a while. A very long while. It was just a dumb text anyway, nothing that really needs a response. He’s probably just on a call. 

A very long call. Everything’s fine.

Hana takes a deep breath and steps up to pay. She stuffs her shirt into her bag and threads her way through the crowd to rejoin the group outside the merchandise area. She watches Genji lay an arm around Antonio’s shoulders as she approaches, murmuring into his ear as he laughs. Sombra leans against Gabe’s side like he’s the only thing holding her up, texting away. Hana bites her lip and checks her own phone again with no luck, giving those two a wide berth. She circles around to Lúcio and Reinhardt as they all start moving back toward the events. 

If she’s being honest with herself, Gabe scares her a little. He seems like an okay guy. But between the scars, the scowl, and the silence Hana’s more than willing to give him all the space. It’s just one thing more than she feels capable of handling today.

She’s glad they met up with Lúcio’s friends, especially having played with them herself beforehand. They’re fun, and Genji in particular seems to enjoy an audience. He and Lúcio both are a force to be reckoned with. Hana’s enjoying herself even more than she’d anticipated. 

But in a way, that’s part of the problem.

In their session last Saturday, Dr. Etienam had started asking if she’d been experiencing anything that felt weird, like anxiousness, feeling off-balance, or even something like guilt. Hana’d brushed it off at the time, because talk about weird. Sure, she’s still upset. Still a little angry, still sad. But guilt? What would that have to do with anything?

Now Hana stares down at the schedule in her hand as she follows the group in Reinhardt’s wake. The same one she’d gone over in detail with her mother, planning routes to make sure they didn’t miss anything, highlighting speakers they absolutely could not miss, teasing each other about predictions for the various finals. Her mom, a longtime aficionado of any and all things World of Warcraft, had been just as excited about BlizzCon as Hana had been. And now Hana’s here, and Eomma’s not. 

Hana thinks she might understand what Dr. Etienam meant now.

Even just walking past the hotel Eomma had booked for them on the way in this morning had triggered an unexpected lump in Hana’s throat. And in a way, she’s almost angry about that too. She’s been looking forward to this conference for a year, and now she feels guilty she’s finally here in the flesh? At least sending Jack memes he doesn’t get and teasing him about meeting axe-murderer-Lúcio was helping distract her from her thoughts. But now he’s not answering either.

Long call, she tells herself as she almost walks into Reinhardt’s back when he stops. A very, very long call.

“So,” she barely hears Lúcio say, trying to shake the fog from her mind. “What’s our next stop?”

Genji leans over his shoulder to tap at the schedule. “The Warcraft finals are starting in a few minutes. I would like to see some of that before the voice actor panel.”

“Sure,” Sombra says with a shrug and Antonio nods. Genji gives Hana an expectant look but her tongue is stuck. Her throat starts to close and she finds herself blinking far more rapidly than she wants.

She can see Lúcio turn to look at her out of the corner of her eye but she feels like she can’t move. He swoops in without prompting anyway. “Actually, you know what?” he says, gliding over to her side and nudging her into taking a few stumbling steps towards the entrance. “I am actually going to die if I don’t get some fresh air, so how about we meet back up at the panel? Sound good?” 

Hana doesn’t wait for any responses. Now that she’s moving, she doesn’t stop. She hits the doors almost at a run.

Reinhardt keeps pace with her, his long strides eating the ground with no visible effort. He steers her toward a secluded bench and shields her from the crowd as she throws herself down, back planted against a palm tree. She takes a deep breath, sniffing, but she doesn’t cry.

She wonders whether she’d feel better if she did.

Lúcio rolls up beside them and offers a water bottle as he locks his brakes. Hana gives him a weak smile and gulps a third of it before coming up for air. Reinhardt settles himself next to her. Between his bulk, Lúcio’s chair, and the tree at her back it feels like she’s surrounded by some kind of protective circle. She’s surprised by how much that helps.

Reinhardt settles a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright, bienchen?”

“Yeah,” she says, swiping furiously at her eyes. “I just…need a minute.”

“Take all the time you need, for real,” Lúcio says and she can tell from his face that he gets it, at least a little. He’d known Eomma too, had been making plans with the both of them for this weekend. And he and Hana have talked about it a little before, but she doesn’t want to now. Not here. It’s too much.

So she grasps for the other major anvil hanging over her head. “It’s dumb, I guess,” she starts, pulling out her phone and brandishing it. “I haven’t heard from Jack in a while. Like, a long while.” She sniffs again, glowering at the screen, then looks to Reinhardt. “Have you?”

Reinhardt dutifully checks his phone. “I have not,” he says, apologetic. 

“It’s fine,” Hana says, trying her best to make her wave look careless. “Just a long call, right? I mean, I texted him earlier but he hasn’t…he’s just busy.” She checks the time and swallows. Almost three hours since his last response. “Really busy.”

“Totally,” Lúcio says with a decisive nod. He looks between them and bites his lip. “That happens, right?” 

“I can’t wait for those stupid bracelets,” Hana grumbles, folding her arms around her knees.

“It does,” Reinhardt answers Lúcio, patting Hana on the shoulder. “I am sure he will respond any minute now, bienchen. He is likely just finishing his repo—”

“They’d tell us if something happened, right?” Hana blurts out, unable to keep a grip on the cold fear building in her chest underneath the churning mix of highs and lows she’s been weathering all afternoon. “They’d tell someone. Who’s his emergency contact? That’s a thing, right?”

Reinhardt gives her a soothing nod. “They would,” he says, but then he hesitates. “At least, I am sure they would. I am not sure who his contact is, but I would think at least it would be Ana. And you know she would tell us anything right away.”

“Right,” Hana says, relaxing against the tree again. “Yeah, she would. Okay.” She repeats it to herself like a mantra in her mind, fixing her eyes on the wheel of Lúcio’s chair and decidedly not watching a fantastic pandaren cosplay walk by. It’s fine. Just because she hasn’t heard from Jack in a few hours doesn’t mean something happened to him. 

“Come here, bienchen,” Reinhardt says softly, pulling her against his side into a hug. He opens his mouth to say more but the shrill sound of his ringtone startles all three of them. Hana sits up, breath caught in her throat, but it leaves her in a gusty sigh when she sees Reinhardt frown at the screen. It must be a number he doesn’t recognize. He answers anyway. “Hello?” Then his face lights up and the tightness in Hana’s chest finally loosens. “Jack, wunderbar! We were just speaking of you! Yes, of course, here she is.”

He thrusts the phone at Hana and she snatches it out of his giant hand. “Jack!”

“Hey, kid,” he says, voice gravelly in her ear. It has never sounded so wonderful. “Sorry to leave you hanging. You’re going to get a kick out of this, though.”

“What?” she asks, letting her smile stretch across her face as relief washes over her. Lúcio leans in to offer a fist bump, eyes crinkling with the force of his grin, and Hana meets it. 

“My phone broke,” Jack sighs. “Actually, scratch that, broke is an understatement. Damn thing snapped right in half.”

“How?” Hana barely chokes the word out as she dissolves into helpless giggles. “I bet you a phone made in this century wouldn’t have that problem.”

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up,” Jack says, but she can hear his amusement through the grumbling. “You can pick me out a new one tomorrow if you’re such an expert.” Hana gives a dramatic gasp and Jack cuts back in right away. “But I get final say. Anything too sparkly gets vetoed, remember that.”

“Aww,” Hana pretends to whine. “You’re no fun.”

“Damn straight,” Jack says with pride. “You having a good time?”

“Yeah,” Hana says, looking between Reinhardt’s fond gaze and Lúcio’s bright smile. And it’s true. Even with the reminders of her mother, with the lingering sadness, it’s been a good day. Especially now that she knows at least Jack is fine. “Totally worth it. You want to say hi to my internet stranger?”

Lúcio jumps at the opportunity. “Hi, Mr. Morrison, sir!” he shouts when Hana extends the phone and she pulls it back, snorting. 

“He’s been on his best behavior,” she says with a grin. 

“A perfect gentleman,” Reinhardt adds at top volume from the other side. “Left all of his weaponry at home, as is proper.”

“I even emptied the secret compartments in my chair!” Lúcio laughs. “I really went the extra mile.”

“See? I’m still in once piece,” Hana says, letting her laughter smooth out the last of the knots in her stomach. 

“Kids these days,” Jack moans.

“You counting Reinhardt in there?” Hana asks, grinning up him as he beams. 

“Sometimes I think he’s the worst of you all,” Jack says with a chuckle. Hana hears the station tones echo in the background of the call and Jack sighs. “Okay, I gotta go. If you need me at all, call this number back. It’s my station for today.”

“Got it,” Hana nods even though he can’t see her. “See you tonight!”

“You bet,” Jack says and hangs up. Hana takes a breath, then saves the number into her own phone before handing Reinhardt’s back over.

“Okay,” she says, looking between them. “Now I do feel better.”

“Excellent,” Reinhardt says, pocketing his phone. He starts to rise but hesitates, looking down at Hana. “Would you like to rejoin the others? Watching the final of the…what was it again?”

“Warcraft,” Lúcio says, watching Hana carefully. Hana thinks for a minute, swallowing another small lump. She does feel miles better. But that still might be pushing it a little far for her peace of mind. “And I’m not gonna lie, I was serious about that fresh air,” Lúcio goes on, deciding for her. “You know what I would kill for—ha, get it—right now? Milkshakes.”

Hana snorts and shakes her head as Reinhardt booms out a laugh. “Then milkshakes it is! Let us begin our quest!” 

Hana gets to her feet and dusts off her jeans, trotting alongside Lúcio as they begin their search. Milkshakes, meeting back up with the others for the voice actor panel, and then the StarCraft final. Sounds like a perfect combo on paper, even if Hana still feels a little unbalanced. But she knows Eomma would want her to have fun no matter what, so she’s determined to enjoy it all the best she can. 

And she knows Jack will be waiting for her when she gets home.

\--

Jesse shoulders the back door open and hefts his backpack onto the bench nearby, kicking off his shoes. He pauses with one foot still aloft, casting a listening ear that’s met with the near-silence of an empty house. The only signs of life are dim pinpricks of reflected light on top of the bookshelf, setting Reaper’s eyes aglow. They flicker like fireflies when the kitten blinks a few times.

Jesse flips on a few lights as he moves through the kitchen and asks, “Where’s ‘Keep?” He doesn’t expect an answer, and yet Reaper sends him a distinctively unimpressed look before contorting himself into a complicated knot to bathe. Jesse chuckles. “You ain’t his keeper, got it.”

He leans over the back of the couch to see if his dog is napping on it. No sign of him. He looks around and notices that the leash is also missing from its hook beside the door. Jesse relaxes and takes a minute to appreciate the quiet and stillness surrounding him, soothing after the noise and clamor of the football game. He hopes Gabe will find it equally helpful once the rest of them get back.

But for now, a few moments of silence is enough for Jesse. He turns on some reruns of the first cooking show he finds, volume low, to fill it. 

He retrieves his backpack and starts spreading his physics homework across the coffee table. Reaper hops down onto the couch and slinks over to start chewing on his pen before he can even sort out the pages and Jesse laughs, pushing him away with a gentle hand. As if that would deter this kitten.

He looks around the room as he settles back on the couch with his textbook propped up in his lap. He knows he probably didn’t need to come all the way here. But the group had decided to forgo the usual post-game dinner, with both Reinhardt and Ana not in attendance and the pressure of looming due dates hanging over all of them. The girls had broken off to various group projects, although he bets Fareeha and Angela’s ‘projects’ have little to do with studying and a lot more to do with either other. Jesse chuckles to himself. He’s just glad they’re getting their acts together.

But even Hanzo’d been gone when Jesse had gotten back. It’d left Jesse with the choice between a quiet dorm room (disregarding the ever present thunder from their suitemates) and a quieter house. And even if it turns out Gabe doesn’t need him, he’d rather make sure. 

Gabe sounded almost normal by the end of their short conversation that morning, and he’s been responding to texts throughout the day. Sombra reported he’s being pretty quiet, but that’s not necessarily unusual for Gabe in a crowd. He might be fine. But Jesse knows how skilled he is at putting up a front and acting as though nothing is wrong. He can’t help but think back to that recent case involving the lookalike, confronting Gabe with a ghost of his past and destabilizing his equilibrium. He’d fought hard to regain some measure of mental balance over the past month. Jesse doesn’t want to imagine what walking into a living, breathing reminder could do to it.

He’d rather not take chances. And so, he props his feet up on the coffee table and waits for their return.

The scratch of a key in the lock attracts his attention not five minutes later and Jesse sits up, peering over the back of the couch. Peacekeeper bounds into the kitchen, trailing his leash like a ribbon, and spots him right away. He vaults the back of the couch and tackles Jesse in a swarm of tongue and dog breath and flying fur. Reaper just manages to flee the premises in time, ducking under the couch with a good-natured hiss. Jesse laughs, pulling Peacekeeper over to wrestle with him as Carlos comes up to the couch on the dog’s heels.

“Man,” he says, sounding a little winded. “This guy can freaking move. We ran like pretty much the entire walk.”

“And he could probably go another round,” Jesse says, finally shoving the dog off and sitting up. “Thanks for takin’ care of him today.”

Carlos waves a dismissive hand. “No problem, man. He’s fun.” He leans over to extract the leash, coiling it in his hands as he grins. “And I get to give him back at the end of the day. Win-win.”

“Ain’t gonna argue with that,” Jesse smiles back. He climbs over the back of the couch to follow Carlos into the kitchen.

“On that note,” Carlos says, hanging up the leash. “You back for the night? Didn’t know you were coming home.”

“Yeah, I got him from here. Hadn’t planned on it but,” Jesse gives an easy shrug, “here I am.”

Carlos nods. “Cool, then I’m going to take off. Tom’s throwing a party tonight. I told Bella I’d try to drop by.” He checks his phone as he drops the spare key onto the counter. “Last I heard from Genji, they should be back around ten tonight. Although I think they gotta drop off Antonio first.”

“Antonio, huh?” Jesse says, leaning a hip against the island. “Haven’t heard about him yet.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” Carlos grins. He waggles his eyebrows. “Probably way more than you want to.”

“All I need to know is if he can carry on an actual conversation,” Jesse says with a theatrical shudder, thinking back to a few of Genji’s more memorable dalliances.

“Yeah, he’s cool,” Carlos says. Jesse whistles out a sigh of relief and Carlos laughs. He tosses a wave over his shoulder as he heads out the door. “See you around, man.”

Jesse returns it, then turns to contemplate the kitchen. Peacekeeper trots by him to nose at the door, as if asking where his new friend went. “What, am I old news already?” Jesse asks. The dog huffs and comes back over to hip check his leg, demanding some pets. “That’s more like it,” Jesse says, almost folded in half to get a good rib rub in. Peacekeeper savors it for a few moments before flopping onto the floor and rolling over to expose his belly for maximum bliss. Jesse laughs and pats his chest a few times. “Nice try, but I’m starvin’. I ain’t waitin’ on them if they’ll be that late.”

He opens the fridge, frowning when he sees it’s mostly devoid of leftovers. Damn. Gabe must have finally figured out to adjust portions for one plate less. That or Genji’s been inhaling the extra, which is the more likely scenario when Jesse thinks about it. 

Jesse yanks a pan of Gabe’s lasagna out of the back stock in the freezer to start thawing for when the others get home. He pulls out the fixings for a quick breakfast for himself. It’s a valid meal for any time of the day, no matter what Sombra says.

He passes the time with dishes and his homework, just remembering to start cooking the lasagna so it will be ready when the others get home. He’s finally able to slam his book shut and stuff his homework back into his bag just as headlights flicker in through the window. Jesse gets to his feet and stretches, working out a kink in his spine, and almost gets bowled over when the slamming of a car door startles Peacekeeper out of his nap. The dog flings himself off the couch and just about straight into Jesse’s knees. Somehow they manage to disentangle all sorts of assorted limbs with minimal tragedy and Peacekeeper moves on to investigate the back door as it swings open. Jesse goes to the oven to check the pan and pretend like he’s always been here.

Sure enough, Gabe stops in the doorway and gives him a flat look. “The hell are you doing here?”

“Last I checked, I still live here,” Jesse grins, pulling the lasagna out in all its sizzling, cheesy glory.

“¡Menos mal!” Sombra breathes and goes for plates and silverware without being asked. “Me muero de hambre.”

Gabe dumps a few travel mugs and water bottles in the sink and Jesse bumps his shoulder when he gets close enough. Gabe won’t quite meet his eyes but he does give a mock sigh and say, “At least you’re earning your keep.” Jesse takes that as a sign the situation is not as bad as it could be and grins, hauling the heavy pan over to the table. 

Genji gives Peacekeeper a few final pats from his spot on the floor and rises smoothly, collecting a few drinks to set out. Jesse gives both him and Sombra a considering look and asks, “So. Worth it?”

They exchange a glance and a smile. “Sí,” Sombra says as Genji nods with a dreamy sigh. Dinner is full of their stories as they almost talk over each other, detailing exciting announcements and thrilling eSports matches and lots of things Jesse doesn’t quite follow. He sits with them as they eat and listens attentively nonetheless, but keeps an eye on Gabe the whole time. 

Gabe doesn’t add anything and pushes his meal around the plate more than he eats anything, but he does smile at a few stories. Jesse decides that’s a good sign.

“We really do appreciate you taking us,” Sombra says at one point, the only sign of her lingering concern. Gabe gives her a nod and a smile that toes the line of reassurance. 

“We will make a gamer out of you yet. In fact,” Genji says and bats his eyelashes. “I have heard there is an arcade tournament in a few weeks, if you could find it in your heart—“

“Not a chance,” Gabe cuts him off with a wider grin. “I’m done until at least next year.”

Genji heaves a heartfelt sigh. Jesse tilts his head and asks, “Why don’t you just take yourself?”

“I will,” Genji nods and shovels a forkful into his mouth. “I will just need to find a ride,” he continues, words a bit mumbled around the pasta. Gabe clears his throat and Genji swallows, then offers an angelic smile.

“Yeah,” Jesse says, opting to ignore the exchange, “that’s what I meant. You got your license all sorted out, yeah?” Genji gives him a slow nod. “Just take my Jeep. Looks like I ain’t bringing it to school at all this year, you might as well get some use out of it.”

Genji’s eyes go wide and he snaps his head around to pin Gabe with his stare. Gabe nods. “I’ll get you added to the insurance this week.” Genji just about punches the ceiling as he whoops, then plants his ass back in his chair like nothing happened. 

After the meal, Genji sets about packing up a portion for Zenyatta while Gabe and Jesse drift to the sink to wash up. Once everything’s dried, Jesse sends a questioning glance at the tea kettle but Gabe shakes his head. Jesse raises an eyebrow and leans back against the counter.

Gabe checks over his shoulder to see if the others are in hearing range before saying quietly, “It’s fine. Kind of funny, actually. The friends they were meeting had a chaperone. The guy was one of my instructors, for spec ops. Way back at the beginning. So.” He shrugs. “Not so bad.”

“Okay,” Jesse says. He snags Gabe’s sleeve when he starts to move away and gives him a solid hug anyway. Gabe wraps him up in a tight hug of his own and takes a few deep breaths, face buried in Jesse’s shoulder. Then he straightens up and nods with a rueful little grin. 

“Jesse,” Sombra calls from the living room before either can say anything. 

“What?” he shouts back, gaze not leaving Gabe. Gabe rolls his eyes and makes a show of rubbing an ear. Jesse grins unapologetically and they troop out of the kitchen side by side.

“Did you see the latest episode yet?” Sombra asks, planting herself in the deep middle corner of the L-shaped couch. 

“I have not,” he says, settling on one end so Gabe can sit between them. “Y’all watched it, I take it?”

“Yes,” Genji says, stretching himself out along the other wing of the couch. “But—oof,” he huffs when Peacekeeper hops up onto his stomach to lay down. “We can watch it again, it was excellent,” he says once he gets his breath back.

Sombra wears a wide, satisfied grin as she grabs the remote and starts hunting through the guide.

Gabe meets Jesse’s inquisitive look and one corner of his mouth twitches. “Daniella and Diego finally meet,” he says, relaxing against the soft cushions at last. 

“Ooh,” Jesse laughs, propping his feet up and leaning against Gabe’s side. “This I gotta see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys, you have no idea how sorry we are about the inadvertent hiatus. we promise that will never happen without warning again.
> 
> so, on that note, we are sadly going to have to kind of go back on hiatus as our lives have gotten no less crazy lately. but our plan is to keep working on chapters and do research we just realized we needed for upcoming stuff (lol whoops) and get in a better position to resume a normal update schedule, probably in late jan/possibly february.
> 
> but thank you so much for all of your comments! we appreciate it all so much and hope you enjoy!
> 
> translations:
> 
> ¿Necesitamos irnos? - Do we need to leave?  
> Estoy bien - I’m fine  
> ¡Menos mal! - Thank goodness  
> Me muero de hambre - I’m starving to death


	28. trials and tribulations of shopping, curiosity, and painted nails

Something warm and wriggling thumps onto Jack’s diaphragm, crushing the air from his lungs. He jolts awake in a rush of panic.

It’s a cold panic, honed over long years into react react react. His fist swings before his eyes are even open and his knuckles make contact, slamming into something soft but unyielding underneath. Jack struggles to shove himself out from under the weight and get into a defensive position but he’s hampered, blocked by the very couch frame that caused the ache in his hand now—

Wait. Couch. 

It feels like the lumpy one in his apartment. And now that his brain is coming online, he registers that the threat is…giggling?

Jack sucks air into his lungs and tries to force his breathing to even out. He gropes for his glasses. Then he jerks his hand back when they’re thrust into his palm, grabbing them out of midair just before they hit the floor on reflex alone. He shoves them onto the bridge of his nose, almost stabbing himself in the eye, and blinks up at Hana.

She has an eyebrow raised but she’s wearing a smug grin. “Morning, sleepy head.”

“Hana,” Jack says. His chest is still tight, like he can’t get any air into his lungs. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Hana makes a face at his growl. “Don’t what? Disturb your beauty rest?”

“Don’t,” Jack forces out through grit teeth. “Just…don’t. You gotta wake me up, you do it from a distance.” His heart is pounding even harder now, the possibilities of what he could have done to her chasing themselves in sickening circles around his brain as he comes fully awake. “You hear me?” 

“What’s the big deal?” Hana asks, waving a dismissive hand. “You didn’t get me. I’ve got great reflexes—“

“Hana,” Jack snaps, drawing in a deep breath. Hana stops short, frowning a little. “Please.”

She studies him, eyes narrowing as they roam across his face. Jack swallows hard and tries to meet her gaze, doing his level best to repress every terrible scenario that could have happened. All the different ways he could have hurt her if he hadn’t woken up quickly enough. His heart is a block of ice in his chest.

But something in his tone must have gotten through to her, be it the desperation or just plain panic. She sets her mouth in a thin line and gives him a nod. “Okay. Distance only.”

“Thanks,” Jack breathes, throat unclenching at last. 

They sit on opposite ends of the couch in an uncomfortable silence, staring at each other. Jack tries to center himself, get his breathing back under control. To remind himself what year it is, where he is. Hana just frowns at him.

He’s pleased to see she looks more concerned than upset once he’s able to focus on her better. “You okay?” she asks quietly.

“In a minute,” he says. 

The furrow doesn’t leave her brow. “I wasn’t going to actually do anything to you,” she starts but he cuts her off, shaking his head.

“It’s not you I don’t trust, Hana,” he says. “It’s me. So just…please. For my peace of mind.”

She tilts her head and shrugs, doing a fair job of making it look carefree. “I already said okay.” Then a gleam comes back into her eye and Jack groans to himself, even if he’s relieved. “You said from a distance. So throwing things at you is good?”

Jack chuckles. “If that works, sure. Within reason,” he hastens to add as a smile spreads over her face. 

“Sure,” she says with an easy shrug. Jack doesn’t believe her for a second.

He scrubs a hand across his eyes to rub the crustiness out, replacing his glasses. He looks around to check the time, but the demon alarm clock isn’t on the coffee table beside his head. It must have gotten knocked off in all the flailing. He gropes for his phone instead. “What time is it, anyway?” He come up empty and levers himself off the couch with a groan and no few creaks and cracks. He starts checking jacket pockets on autopilot, still blinking away sleep. “And where the hell is my—“

The memory finally dawns on him, pieces of cheap plastic and delicate electronics now a scrap pile in lieu of a working phone. Hana just sits on the couch, chin perched on her knees, grinning at him. 

“Your phone?” she asks, voice sweet. “As in, the thing I would have donated to a museum if it wasn’t in pieces right now?”

Jack closes his eyes and sighs. “Yeah. Never mind.”

“To answer your earlier question,” Hana says, letting his slip go with a regal wave of her hand, “it’s almost eight. In the morning,” she adds when he turns to stare at her.

“Why?” he asks, trying to infuse every ounce of his confusion and incredulity into his tone.

Hana scoffs. “Because that’s how time works?”

“Why are you up?” he modifies his question, at a complete loss. “Or more importantly, who are you and where’s Hana?”

She laughs. “You need a new phone. So,” she says, drawing out the vowel. The cheerfulness in her voice makes his brain hurt. “Shopping!” 

“Good lord,” Jack moans, burying his face in his hands. “Hana. It’s Sunday. Nothing is open yet.”

“Stores aren’t, no,” she says, tilting her head. “But breakfast places are. You like food, right?”

Jack laughs. He decides the easiest way to handle this is to just flow with it. “You got me there,” he says. “Okay, get dressed.”

“Please, I am totally ready. Waiting on you,” Hana says with a huff but she’s smiling. She checks her phone. “Reinhardt’s going to meet us there, so hurry up.” 

“Why can’t you be like this on school days?” Jack grumbles as he stumbles to the bathroom. 

“If you took me to breakfast beforehand, I might be!” she shouts after him. Jack just grins to himself and shakes his head.

He follows her directions, parking the Civic next to Reinhardt’s big truck. He blinks a little at the sign and its unfamiliar characters. Jack expected Hana to seek out the tallest stack of pancakes she could find. Instead, it’s some kind of Chinese place. The doors aren’t even open yet and there’s already a line that stretches around the corner of the building. Jack turns to squint at Hana. “Popular?”

She’s almost bouncing in her seat. “So the reviews say. It better be as good as promised.” She kicks open her door and hops out, so Jack follows her over to where Reinhardt holds a place in line for them. He towers over everyone around him and is easy to pick out.

Jack glances over the restaurant’s signs once again. He’d began toying with the idea of making breakfast a bigger deal at home, if it really would motivate Hana to get up. Never mind the fact he can barely crack an egg without it exploding. But he’s getting the sense this is going to be far different than he expected. 

“You can get breakfast here?” he asks, turning back to the other two.

“It’s called dim sum,” Reinhardt says, proudly holding out his phone with a review pulled up on screen for Jack’s perusal. “Whatever that means,” he adds with a shrug and a cheery grin.

Hana huffs and rolls her eyes but she wears a grin of her own. “Just wait ‘til we get in there. I got this, you’ll see.”

“We place ourselves in your capable hands,” Reinhardt says with a bow. Hana giggles.

“Yeah, you are definitely in charge,” Jack says, eyeing the opening doors with no abatement to his nervousness. “This time,” he adds hastily as a devious grin breaks out on Hana’s face.

“As usual,” Reinhardt mutters to Hana with wink, one hand covering his mouth. Jack hears him anyway and punches him in the arm as Hana laughs. Reinhardt feigns a grievous wound but drops the act right away to return Hana’s high five. Jack shakes his head and gives them both a shove to get them moving as the line trickles inside.

They grab a corner table and Jack scans the room, making note of the exits on autopilot. The place is a flurry of almost overwhelming activity as servers push their carts around at speed. It doesn’t seem to affect Hana, who obtains a steamer basket from the first server to stop by with a few quick words that Jack doesn’t catch. 

Hana deftly picks up her chopsticks and snags a little white roll, biting into it without hesitation. Reinhardt follows her lead and pops his entire roll into his mouth. He makes an appreciative noise and raises his eyebrows, giving Hana an enthusiastic nod. She beams at him and turns an expectant look on Jack.

Jack steels himself and picks up his own chopsticks with a frown. He tries to copy their approach but he fumbles the utensils as he tries to get them to stay in place between his fingers. “What did you call these?” he asks to stall.

“Cha siu bao,” Hana says, words thick with her mouth full. Her eyes crinkle with mirth as she watches him.

Jack blinks at her. “What?”

Hana swallows. “Just trust me, okay?” she says and shoves the rest of her roll into her mouth. Reinhardt gives him a thumbs up for encouragement so Jack sighs and relents. He tries to pick up a roll for himself, but it slips out from between his chopsticks. Hana giggles and reaches over, correcting his hold and showing him how to pick it up. “You can have a fork if you—“

“No,” Jack says, determined. “I’m doing this right.” He finally gets the roll positioned, fingers straining to keep the chopsticks in place. He gets the roll up to his face with surprisingly little trauma and takes a bite. A delicious wash of barbequed pork coats his mouth, pillowed by the fluffy roll. He has to bite back a moan. “Okay, trusting.”

Reinhardt claps him on the back, only knocking his glasses a little askew. “That’s the spirit!”

Hana grins at them, gleam in her eye. “Good. Because we’re just getting started.”

She takes point, exchanging rapid fire words that Jack has no hope of understanding with the servers as they bustle by. Jack can’t begin to pronounce half the dishes or even recognize some of the things in front of him. Reinhardt tries and butchers the names to Hana’s great amusement. But they both dutifully sample everything she pushes their way. Even if Jack drops every other dumpling six times before getting it into his mouth. Hana does a heroic job of only laughing at him a little bit.

“So,” Hana says as they make their way out, sly grin tugging at her lips. “What do you guys think?”

“It wasn’t what I expected, that’s for sure,” Jack says, pretending to grouse. “But,” he allows with a nod, “whatever it was, it was pretty damn good.”

Hana laughs. “Good! Because we’re going back, so you better like it.”

“Gladly,” Reinhardt says with a bright smile. “I did not know what to expect either, but I quite enjoyed it. You have excellent taste, my dear!”

Hana preens a little. “Yeah, and that’s why I’m in charge,” she says and holds out a hand to Jack for a high five. Jack hip checks her instead and she tumbles into the Civic’s passenger seat, laughing as she goes. She rolls with it and sits up, pointing through the windshield like a sea captain directing course. “Now, shopping!”

“Aye, aye!” Reinhardt salutes her and climbs into his truck. Jack shakes his head with a grin of his own but obeys the directive. They pull into the lot attached to the largest strip mall nearby and Jack picks the first free spot he comes across. 

Hana sits up and frowns, pointing down the row. “Dude,” she says, feigning outrage. “There are like fifty closer spots you could have picked.”

“It’s good for you,” Jack says, slamming the door and starting the trek over to the spot Reinhardt is maneuvering into. He can hear her disgruntled stomps behind him. “Builds character.”

“You have truly found your calling,” she moans, catching up and threading an arm through his. She points at him in mock-threat, almost jabbing him in the eye. “Exactly how much help did you want picking out a new phone?”

“Feel free to let me get the cheapest and most basic relic I can find,” he says with a grin. “I’m fine with that.”

“Ugh, unfair,” she says but she’s smiling too.

Jack and Reinhardt exchange surprised glances when Hana marches right by every pink and glittery store they pass, apparently focused on their mission. Jack weighs the odds of that happening again on their way out but he doesn’t like his chances. He relegates that to future problems as they follow Hana’s lead into an overwhelming electronics store.

She threads the aisles with ease like she knows where she’s going, but her steps do start to drag as they walk through a section filled with computers of all types. Each one has an unreasonable list of customization options and price tags that make Jack feel like the air’s been punched out of his chest. These must be the gaming systems. 

Hana lingers at one in particular, gaze full of longing as she scans the stats. Jack frowns at it, at the price, and then at the floor as he does some quick thinking. He’s pretty sure she’s not paying him any attention and starts to draw out one of the many tiny notebooks that live in his pockets. But a subtle elbow jabs him in the side and he looks up to see Reinhardt looking just as contemplative. Reinhardt meets his gaze, gives the notebook a sad headshake, and pulls out his phone. Then with the air of a professor showing a hopeless student something new, he takes a discreet picture of the system and its stat sheet. 

Jack sneaks a glance to Hana but it seems she missed the entire exchange. Reinhardt looks very proud of himself. Jack rolls his eyes but gives him a grateful nod anyway.

Then Hana lets out a quiet sigh and turns away from the system, latching onto both their wrists and pulling them out of the aisle without a backward glance. They follow without a word.

Hana shepherds them into a section filled with phones and Jack hesitates, frowning at the selection. He picks his way down the row and tries to inspect each one. But the brands don’t mean anything to him and don’t seem to have much difference between them, at least to his understanding. Hana and Reinhardt poke at a couple though they hang back and let him lead. 

He can tell from Hana’s little smile she’s enjoying this.

He tries to inspect a side-by-side stats sheet for two models and but it’s gibberish to him and he huffs. “What’s the difference between these?” Reinhardt and Hana step up to flank him and both study the sheet. Reinhardt gives a small shrug, looking unimpressed with either model. Hana frowns. 

“Not much. Mostly storage and camera stuff,” she says. She tilts her head. “Will they do what you need?”

“I need it to make calls and text people,” Jack says, scowling at the phones. Hana laughs. “Well, and to do the bracelet things. Think they’ll be enough?”

“If you’re running three apps?” Hana’s smile grows. “Yeah, I think they’ll get the job done.”

“I would think the question is more ‘will they survive a day in your life’,” Reinhardt interjects, poking the plastic casing of one phone model. He doesn’t look terribly impressed. Jack picks up the other demo and hefts it in his palm, turning it over. For how fancy a phone it is, it does seem fragile. He sets it down and takes the other from under Reinhardt’s probing finger. It’s no hardier. 

“What’s up?” Hana asks. Jack hands her the model.

“They seem kinda flimsy,” he says. Hana takes her lip between her teeth as she turns it over, inspecting the casing for herself. “I don’t think it’ll do any better than my old one did. Maybe worse.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she agrees, setting it back down. They glance around the aisle again. Jack picks up one of the iPhones but it seems even more delicate. He sets it back down with a sigh.

“What do you guys have?” he asks.

“I’ve got this one,” Hana says, pointing to a model that looks no sturdier.

“And I, this,” Reinhardt says and picks up another model further down the aisle. They all frown at the choices for a second before Hana straightens up. 

“Okay, hang on,” she says and strides off. Jack and Reinhardt exchange another glance before Hana snags a salesperson. Reinhardt snorts at Jack’s sigh while Hana draws the woman back to where they stand. Hana gives Jack an expectant look and the salesperson follows her gaze, but Jack just stares back. Words lodge themselves in his throat in the face of her plastic smile. Hana only lets him flounder for a second before she takes charge. “So he needs a new phone,” she says to the salesperson. “Do you have anything indestructible?”

It’s the salesperson’s turn to falter. “Uh, okay,” she starts as her eyebrows climb her forehead. “I don’t know about indestructible. Um, what were you planning to use it for?”

“His job is very hard on equipment, is the issue,” Reinhardt cuts in before Hana can get creative. He looks to Jack, as if gauging his willingness to participate in the conversation, so Jack swallows the lump in throat and tries to shake off his hesitation.

“I’m a medic for LA county,” he says, pausing to clear his throat again. “Kind of never know what I’m walking into and, uh…” He shrugs, the rest of his sentence evaporating from his brain when the salesperson meets his gaze. “You know.”

Hana takes over again. “He smashed his last one on a call,” she adds, leaning towards the salesperson as if sharing a secret. “It was a flip phone. Cracked it right in half.” Jack looks skyward with a sigh as the two laugh. Reinhardt pats Jack on the shoulder but he does a terrible job of looking sympathetic. “I’m trying to drag him into this century, but these don’t look like they’ll handle rough treatment any better,” Hana says.

“Got it,” the salesperson says with a nod. She leads them down to a new section of the row and points to a few phones. “Here, take a look at these. They won’t survive an apocalypse, but they should stand up to most other models for sure. Shatterproof screens, aluminum frame, the works. Add a protective case and a screen coating that won’t crack even when being hammered, and you’ll be one step closer to indestructible. This more your speed?”

Hana grins, picking up the demo version and turning it this way and that. Jack does his best to absorb the price tag without a word and focus on the features, but it still makes him swallow hard. He tries to remind himself that it’s a one-time purchase for something that should last for a while. Hana hands him the model and he inspects it, grudgingly impressed despite himself. He gives it to Reinhardt in turn, who looks it over and gives an approving nod.

“Yeah,” Jack says to the salesperson, returning the grin Hana sends him. “I think this might be it. It’ll run that bracelet app thing right?”

“Of course it will.” Hana rolls her eyes before poking him in the ribs. “Aww, look at you. All grown up and getting a smartphone.” Jack darts out a hand and musses up her hair. She squawks and slaps at his hand while Reinhardt and the salesperson laugh. 

Jack makes his purchases, getting the salesperson to put the screen coating and case on for him, before following Reinhardt and Hana back out of the store. They don’t get far before Hana turns around just enough to snag Jack’s sleeve. She tugs him into a shop stuffed to the brim with clothes while Reinhardt trails them with a wide grin. Jack frowns, heart sinking when she gives him a wink. “Now,” she says, dragging him to the section for nice menswear, “we gotta find you something good for your date.”

“Hana,” he tries but she’s having none of it. 

Especially when Reinhardt backs her up. “You know she is right,” he says, eyes twinkling. “We have already discussed this and you agreed.”

“Under duress,” Jack grumbles but he resigns himself to their tender care. “But fine. You got something in mind?”

Hana snatches the plastic bag containing his new phone from his hand and points him to a nearby rack filled with admittedly nice sweaters. “Start there,” she says, grin curling the edges of her mouth. “No,” she says when he reaches for a plain brown one. She nudges him over and nods to a deep blue one with a nice pattern to the weave. “That one will bring out your eyes better.”

Jack stares at her. Reinhardt laughs and gives him a gentle shove. “Listen to her wisdom, my friend.” Jack sighs but he gives in when she nods at it again, vigorous. He holds it up against his chest and turns toward a mirror wrapped around a nearby support post, blinking in surprise. It doesn’t do anything to disguise the bags under his eyes or the faint lines etched around his mouth but she’s right. The sweater makes the color in his eyes visible even through his thick glasses and he doesn’t look half bad. 

“See? Better already,” Hana says with a proud smile, dissolving into giggles when Reinhardt pretends to swoon. 

Jack punches him in the arm. “I guess,” he allows, pretending to be unimpressed but hanging on to the sweater all the same. “Okay, is that good?”

“Oh, Jack,” Reinhardt says, feigning disappointment with a sad shake of his head. “Of course not!”

“Yeah, get with the program,” Hana agrees, pushing Jack deeper into the racks. “You can’t wear the same sweater every time, Jack.”

“When did I agree to more than one date?” Jack grumbles, quiet enough that neither Hana or Reinhardt catch it. “This is just going to be more to pack,” he says, raising his volume enough for them to hear.

“You’ll live,” Hana says and leads him away to another rack of shirts.

Jack sighs but doesn’t resist and lets them take the lead. He watches as they paw through selections with a level of excitement he can’t emulate, letting them hold their choices up against his chest and chatter between themselves. But he’s glad they’re having fun.

And it surprises him that he’s not bored in the least, dutifully following as they circle what feels like the entire store until they amass enough additions to his wardrobe to satisfy Hana and Reinhardt. Maybe Jack’s getting the hang of this shopping ritual after all.

Even so, Jack tries to entertain the fantasy that they’re done with this strip mall as he does his best to handle the cash register total without complaint. He knows that hope is faint at best. And sure enough, Hana starts drifting toward the store with the most bling on their way out. Reinhardt looks to Jack and Hana looks hopeful. Jack bites his tongue, holds his breath, and nods her inside. 

He can admit it’s worth it for the blinding smile she gives him.

When she’s finally satisfied, they wave goodbye to Reinhardt and head home with far more bags in tow than Jack expected. Although at this point he’s not sure why he’s surprised. Jack dumps his load onto the half-packed boxes piled on the coffee table and extracts his new phone. He sits down and regards it with a frown, turning it over in his hands. 

Hana plops beside him and watches, chin resting on her knees and a twinkle in her eye.

Jack pokes at a few buttons, managing to get the thing to turn on. He turns it over again as it boots and inspects the port holes in the case with narrowed eyes. He’s trying to decide which is the one for the power plug when Hana snorts. “What?” he asks, eyeing her.

“It’s not a bomb,” she says. She’s clearly enjoying this. “You don’t have to hold it so carefully.”

“May I remind you,” Jack says, raising an eyebrow, “what happened to my last one?”

Hana concedes the point with a genteel nod. “Still. You’re never going to get it going if you poke at it like it’s going to bite you.”

“I got this,” Jack says, giving her a playful push. She tips over and drapes herself across the armrest with a dramatic sigh.

“Whatever you say,” she says, imitating Jack’s natural diction. Jack shakes his head and refocuses on his phone. The simple start up wizard helps him get a few things set but then he’s left with a screen full of tiny little icons, each one colorful and nonsensical. He frowns at it.

He cuts a glance over to Hana. She’s still watching him with an expectant little smile. Jack turns back to his phone with a determined scowl. But then, after somehow opening eight apps at once that almost send the thing into a meltdown, he huffs and dumps it into Hana’s waiting hands.

“Okay,” she says, doing a fair job of putting a lid on her laughter. She closes all the spasming programs and gets the phone back to the home screen. She points to an icon. “This is your phone book. And this is your texting app. Need anything else?”

“No,” Jack says emphatically. 

“Wow,” Hana grins. She opens the directory and saves her own number, then adds Reinhardt’s and Ana’s for good measure. “One thing at a time, I guess.” She closes it out and hands the phone back, grin bright. “Welcome to the future, Jack.”

Jack groans.

\--

Sombra doesn’t realize she’s staring into the kitchen, her nails tapping against her laptop with an absent beat, until Genji leans over and flicks her knee. “Do you mind?” he scowls, but there’s no heat in his voice.

“What? Oh, sorry,” she says and stills her fingers. Genji winks and returns his attention to his game. He laughs, likely at something coming through the headset, and ignores his homework spread out across the coffee table before him with ease. 

Sombra focuses back on her project, curled up in her corner of the couch. She’s turned just so that Genji can’t see her screen although she knows he’s not paying her any mind now. She flicks her gaze over to the TV and sure enough, his team is headed into the next big fight. No wonder he wanted quiet.

She looks back to her laptop and tries to resume debugging. But her brain feels like it’s stuck. It won’t stop turning the object of her musings over and over again. She lets out a quiet sigh and saves her program, looking back to the kitchen once again.

Gabe’s baking. Sombra still isn’t well-versed enough in reading him to determine if it’s because he feels like it or if some darker mood drives him to the oven. She squints. It doesn’t look anything like the macaron incident, at least. Gabe seems relaxed, remains of their dinner already cleaned up and put away, and seems like he’s enjoying what he’s doing instead of using it as a lifeline. And Genji doesn’t seem bothered at all, completely engrossed in his game.

Still. It’s doing nothing for Sombra’s focus, fanning her spark of interest into blazing curiosity.

If he is baking because he needs distraction, it’s not hard to pinpoint why. Running into his old acquaintance a few days ago at BlizzCon had clearly taken him by surprise, and it didn’t seem like a pleasant one. He’d spent the whole day subdued and scowling, and she’s pretty sure it wasn’t just from being at an event he’d rather have skipped. 

It’s yet another clue that indicates something truly big and devastating happened in Gabe’s past. Something he’s loathe to discuss or even dwell on, and each time he’s reminded it sends him into a dark spiral. 

She needs to know.

Sombra makes sure one of her innocuous programs is still open in the background, ready to fill the screen in case Gabe or anyone unexpected walks by. It had initially been cover for her newest program in the war against dumbass history teachers. One that’s decided to blame her for his computer problems and be even harder on her than usual despite having no proof. Just today, she’d narrowly avoided detention for nothing more than a couple of simple jokes. In Spanish, no less, so she knows Anderson had no idea what she’d said. But he’d been convinced they must have been inappropriate—half the class cracking up was enough for him—and it’d been one more unfair strike against her yet again. 

The minor detail that she is, in fact, the cause of Anderson’s technological woes has no bearing on the situation. A decisive win is in order, and she knows just the thing. 

But her curiosity about Gabe is boiling over at last. Anderson can wait. 

She opens a browser, double checking her encryption protocols are in place, and starts lining up her best avenues to track down the information about his background that she seeks. But then she pauses, sparing a second to glance up and frown at an entirely different resource right in front of her. 

Genji’s team completes their battle and he drapes himself back against the couch with a satisfied sigh. He starts getting set up for the next phase but pauses, as if he can feel her gaze. “Yes?”

Sombra leans forward and closes her laptop. “Saturday.”

Genji raises an eyebrow. Then he backs out of the match and pulls off the headset, giving her his full attention. “What of it?”

Sombra frowns, making sure she conveys an air of innocent concern, and sends a furtive glance over Genji’s shoulder into the kitchen. Genji starts to look himself but halts halfway around when she continues in a low voice. “You think he’s okay?” She bites her lip. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to tell.”

Genji does twist in place then, watching Gabe as he washes a few bowls and utensils. He turns back, his brow furrowed in thought. “I think so. He appears to be very well recovered to me. I would guess that his time in training is not what he struggles with today. I believe he said that is where he knew Hana’s chaperone, did he not?”

“Something like that, I think,” Sombra says as she nods, making sure it looks distracted as if she’s trying to recall. She remembers perfectly that Gabe did say the big guy—Reinhardt, if her memory serves—was his instructor. And she thought she’d heard him call Gabe a captain, though that had been faint. So. Military for sure.

Which does nothing to explain to complete and total lack of military paraphernalia around the house. No medals, no single piece of evidence Gabe ever served. She’d guessed he must have some experience from his behavior and habits, but this is her first concrete confirmation that it ever happened.

Now, to see how much Genji knows. Sombra tilts her head and tries to keep her expression curious but harmless. “Training for what?” she asks.

He gives her a faint shrug. “I believe something in the Army, although I am not sure. He does not say much of that time,” he says, with a slight warning in his tone. “He was already home for good when I arrived here.”

Sombra nods. “As long as you think he’s okay,” she says and reopens her laptop, letting the subject drop as if it’s not important to her. She can feel Genji watch her, feels him shift as he gives the kitchen one last glance. He turns back to his game. 

So he knows almost nothing about it, Sombra decides, despite how long he’s been here. It’s disappointing to have such a potentially rich vein come up empty, but in a way she’s not surprised. Genji might be very good at being annoying, but he’s also somehow sensitive to the boundaries of others and does his best to adhere to them. If he has any questions about Gabe’s past, he must have squashed his curiosity out of respect for the man.

Boring. 

She considers her other resources at hand. Jesse probably knows everything, or at least far more than Genji does. But he’s also an excellent secret-keeper, and keeps a tight lid on things he feels aren’t his to disclose. She’ll have to consider how to prod him for intel. And Amélie is very adept at catching Sombra out, to her chagrin. She might also know more, but she’ll be a very dangerous avenue to try if she wants to keep her inquiries from Gabe. 

Zenyatta is right out. There’s no way she could interrogate him without him catching on at once. And there’s no guarantee that he knows anything in the first place. She’s pretty sure he’s only been around as long as Genji has.

Sombra pulls up her browser and resists the impulse to crack her knuckles. Looks like she’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way. 

She’s not letting this go, now that she’s got a place to start looking. She needs to know. Not even just for her own curiosity, as loath as she is to admit it to herself. But she’s caught herself feeling more and more at ease here, as if she actually belongs. Every day becomes more of a struggle to keep her guard up. 

And each time she tries to test Gabe, he takes it in stride. She still doesn’t know where his boundaries are.

Well, knowing more about his background, about whatever terrible thing happened to him, might help her find the line. She bites her lip and commits herself to the search.

\--

Jack barely parks the car in the school lot before Hana somersaults into the passenger seat and twists up like a pretzel situating herself, her bag, and the seat belt. Jack watches with raised eyebrows until she’s upright and buckled in, struggling not to show his smile as she flaps her hands at him. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

He feigns ignorance. “What’s the rush? Got somewhere to be?”

“Jack,” she whines, poking him hard in the bicep. “I want to get my room set up. I am literally going to die, the wait is killing me!”

Jack hums, twisting toward her and reaching out. “In that case, I should check you over—“ Hana squawks and swats his hands away, laughing. Jack raises them palm up to concede and starts the car. 

“Finally,” she says with a dramatic moan. But her eyes are crinkled up in a smile and Jack grins back.

“The night is still young,” he says and receives an eye roll for his wisdom. “You’ll have plenty of time. We’re down to the last load to move over.”

Hana seems unconvinced but lets him off with a shrug. She pulls her phone out and Jack focuses on the road, going over his mental list of the remaining things that need to be packed and moved over to their new apartment. He’s surprised by a small pang in his chest as he thinks of abandoning the shitty one bedroom, even in the face of an enormous upgrade. The place may have been cramped and crappy, but it’s been his home for almost six years. 

He didn’t think he was all that attached to it, and yet there’s a lump in his throat when it comes into view.

They climb the stairs and Jack watches Hana bustle around the living room, making absolutely sure she’s packed her expanding array of games along with each and every one of her trinkets. Jack chuckles to himself. She’s somehow amassed more things in her short stay here than he’s collected since coming to LA. 

The apartment is empty of their furniture and appliances and looks strangely cavernous. Reinhardt helped Jack move the big items over while Hana’d been at school, leaving just the odd toothbrush, remaining articles of clothing, and phone chargers strew around for them to collect. Jack double checks his own last box to make sure he packed his shaving kit and spares a scowl for the demon alarm clock. He toys with the idea of ‘accidentally’ leaving it behind but decides against it. He tapes the box shut and leans back against the wall to watch Hana scurry around the bleak apartment. 

“Okay,” she says, clutching her stuffed bunny to her chest as she stops in front of Jack. “That’s everything. I triple checked.”

Jack nods and piles the last boxes into two stacks, hefting the larger. “Then looks like we’re done here.” Hana bounces in place and grabs the last pile, bunny tucked safely on top. She gives Jack a bright grin and darts past him into the hall. 

But he hesitates, glancing around the apartment one last time. It’s weird to think he’s not coming back. Jack frowns to himself. He doesn’t regret it, not at all. But it’s a strange sensation and leaves him feeling oddly bereft.

Jack tries to steel himself and walks out without a backwards glance. 

He catches up with Hana as she struggles with the front door, doing her best to shove it past its sticking point without dropping her boxes. Before he can help out, the door swings open for her and she straightens in surprise. 

“Oh, thanks!” she chirps. Jack looks past her to see Bastion holding it open for them with a cheery grin.

Jack and Hana start piling the boxes in the car, parked in the loading zone. Or rather, Jack gets to work while Hana tosses hers haphazardly into the back seat and skips over to talk to Bastion where he waits by the door. Jack shakes his head but doesn’t hold it against her, taking the time to fit his boxes into the Tetris game the trunk has become before slamming the lid. He strolls back to the door at a more sedate pace.

Bastion waves him a hello and sends a pointed look toward the car, eyebrows drawn together and his whistle tinged with curiosity. 

“Yeah, we’re moving,” Jack says, shoving his hands into his pockets and trying not to look too awkward. “We needed to get another bedroom for her.” He jerks his head towards Hana and Bastion nods with a few understanding clicks of his tongue.

“It’s super cute,” Hana says, hands sweeping in front of her with excitement. “It’s the upstairs of this amazing old house that Jack’s friend owns. And it’s not far away, don’t worry. We’ll still come hike in the park when we get the chance.”

Bastion gives them both a big smile and a happy whistle and Hana high fives him. Jack leaves them chatting in their own way to swing through the office and hand over his keys. He signs off on the apartment, officially revoking his lease, and stands up with a sigh. The weird feeling clings to him as he steps back into the hall, casting his last looks around the lobby with its battered mailbox bank and putting his shoulder to the sticky front door for the final time. Bastion gives him another wave on his way back inside and Jack nods, straightening his shoulders. Time to start a new chapter. 

It doesn’t take long to cart the boxes up the sturdy new outside staircase from their designated spot in Reinhardt’s wide driveway. Jack props the door open with his foot so Hana can enter without dropping anything. She then peels off to deposit her armful in her new room and Jack doesn’t wait for her, dumping his load onto the long kitchen counter. He rips off some tape but jumps when a shriek echoes from the back bedroom.

Jack sprints to her room, skidding around the door frame. “What happened?” he asks, checking for threats on autopilot. Seeing nothing, he turns to Hana with a frown. She gapes at him, wordless, and points at the tall wall closest to the center of the house with wild jabs for emphasis. Jack takes in the room in detail for the first time.

Each wall is painted the bright, cheery green Hana’d picked out and that they’d helped Reinhardt put up only a few weeks ago. But now the tallest one, the one she’d said should have a feature of some kind, is covered in pink polka dots from floor to ceiling. They vary in size all the way up. It gives the room a playful, whimsical vibe without being overwhelming. 

Jack huffs out a little laugh, relieved. Reinhardt must have done this last night. It wasn’t here yesterday when they’d brought over the first loads, and Jack has been too frazzled to pay much attention since. 

Hana’s eyes are shining. “Just like I said!” she breathes. 

Jack gives her a hug. “I take it you like?” he asks, pretending he’d known it would be there. 

Hana squeals again and spins around in a circle, nodding vigorously, before sprinting past Jack. He can hear her pound down the internal staircase that leads to Reinhardt’s section of the house.

Jack pulls out his new phone and manages to open the camera, sending a picture of the wall to Reinhardt with a message of ‘nice’. He means it as a warning for Hana’s inbound excitement, though there’s no way he could miss the cacophony coming for him as she barrels down the stairs. 

Reinhardt texts him back a thumbs up emoji before excited chatter echoes up from downstairs. Jack grins and heads back into the living room to keep unpacking.

He pauses when he hears the others start to thunder back up the stairs, surveying the apartment as he straightens his spine with a few creaks. This room alone is slightly bigger than the entire old apartment and they don’t own enough to fill it by a long shot. 

But the handful of artsy prints Hana and Reinhardt picked out already decorate the walls and the furniture is arranged to make a natural divide between the kitchen and living areas. It might all be mismatched and leave the rooms with weird gaps, peppered throughout with beaten up cardboard boxes. But still. It feels almost homey.

Jack is surprised by how at ease he is already. Maybe having a big part in the renovations helps it be familiar from the get go. But whatever the case, he finds himself suddenly not missing the old place at all. The mopey feeling in his chest dissipates as he admits to himself he and Hana made the right choice.

Things are starting to go their way at last.

Reinhardt and Hana crest the top landing, giant smiles on their faces. Reinhardt stops and plants his hands on his hips, surveying the apartment for himself. “Ah, my friends! You have made great progress here.” 

“Are you crying?” Hana asks, squinting up at him.

Reinhardt gives a dramatic sniffle. “I am just so happy you are here!” he wails, snagging her in a hug and burying his face in her shoulder. He pretends to sob messily into her hair as she shrieks with laughter.

Jack shakes his head but he knows Reinhardt is mostly serious. “Us, too,” he admits, returning Reinhardt’s watery smile when he lifts his head. 

Yeah, the right choice for sure.

Hana squeezes Reinhardt in a hug of her own and skips off to work on her room. Reinhardt helps Jack pass the evening organizing the kitchen and tackling the overwhelming mess of cord spaghetti that comprises the TV hookups. At least, they give it their best shot until Hana emerges, sighs as if she’s burdened with terrible trials, and waves them away to fix it.

Jack leaves her to it and goes to sort out the bathroom, barely putting on the brakes in time to avoid stepping on the colorful array of little glass bottles scattered near the door.

“Wait, don’t step on my polish!” Hana calls after him, shooting upright in a heartbeat.

“I didn’t,” he says, flapping a hand at her. Then he turns back to her with a frown. “But why is it spread all over the floor?”

“I have to organize it first,” Hana says, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. She holds up one hand and inspects her fingers before showing him her chipped nail polish job. “And I’m trying to decide if I’m gonna redo mine. It was kind of, well…” She stalls out, making a face. Concern creeps into Jack and he can see Reinhardt frown behind her at her tone. Hana doesn’t look up, gaze fixed on her hand. “It was just something we did whenever we moved or school started or whatever. Like, I dunno, starting it off right.” She folds her arms across her chest and gives a ghost of a shrug. “A dumb little tradition, I guess.” 

“I don’t think it’s dumb,” Jack says.

“Nor do I,” Reinhardt adds, lumbering to his feet and joining them by the collection of tiny bottles. “We are mostly done, I believe, yes?” he says. Jack takes stock of the apartment and nods, satisfied for the day. Reinhardt bumps her shoulder gently. “You may do so, if you wish.”

“I guess,” Hana says, but she doesn’t sound any happier about it. “I dunno, though. We’d do each other’s nails, even Appa’s.” She frowns down at the veritable rainbow spread at her feet. “It wouldn’t be the same.”

Jack and Reinhardt lock eyes over her head. Reinhardt raises his eyebrows and Jack bites his lip, glancing back down at the nail polish collection with doubt clouding him. He’s never painted a nail in his life. But then again, how hard can it be?

“Hana,” he says, toeing at a nice deep shade of blue. “How about we do it with you?”

Hana’s head pops up and she stares first at Jack, then at Reinhardt’s open smile. “Are you serious?” she asks, grin breaking out once more. “You? Want to get your nails painted?”

“First time for everything,” Jack says, affecting a blasé shrug. Reinhardt laughs and kneels down, inspecting the color choices. Hana gives Jack a hug before scurrying to the kitchen to collect an entire ream of paper towel. It strikes a little fear into Jack’s heart but now he’s committed. He picks up the blue he’d been poking and frowns at his own fingers. “This stuff comes off, right?”

Hana rolls her eyes and she plops down beside Reinhardt, cross-legged. “Yes. Here, watch.” She scoops up a small bottle and proceeds to clean her old polish off, putting Jack a little more at ease as he sits next to her. Then she takes the blue from him and holds it up. “This one?” Jack nods and she grins, motioning toward his hand. “Nice. Okay, gimme.”

“I guess,” Jack sighs as if put upon but doesn’t resist at all.

He pays careful attention as she expertly applies the blue to his nails, and can even admit it does look pretty fantastic. Once she’s done, he reaches for the pink she’d picked out for herself but she grabs his wrist. “Hang on, sheesh! You have to let it dry.” 

“Come now, Jack,” Reinhardt admonishes with a grin of his own. 

“Oh, like you knew that,” Jack growls with no heat. Hana laughs and picks up the glittery gold Reinhardt had chosen. By the time she’s finished with his, she agrees Jack can begin touching things again. He picks up the pink with uncertainty creeping back over him but tries to shake it off. Hana holds out her hands, trusting, and Jack straightens his shoulders. He can do this. 

He revises his optimism after he somehow manages to get pink all over her fingers, his own hands, and pooled across the paper towels. Pretty much everywhere but on her actual nails. Jack scowls to himself but Hana cracks up, reaching up to poke him in the cheeks. 

“Look, now we match!” she chirps. Jack levers himself to his feet so he can see the bathroom mirror and sure enough, pink stripes decorate his face just like the ones she habitually wears. He can’t help but laugh.

Reinhardt points to his own face and Hana obliges, tracing lines just above his beard. 

“Perfect!” he crows and the three of them dissolve into giggles. 

They clean up the spills and somehow, between both Jack and Reinhardt, manage to adequately paint Hana’s nails as well. It’s a far cry from professional but she seems satisfied, grinning up at them with no trace of shadows in her eyes for the time being. 

Jack helps her finish sorting out the rest of the colors before storing them away. They finish unpacking the bathroom just as Hana starts yawning and Jack checks the clock, surprised by the time. “All right, time for bed,” he says, shaking his head when she pouts. But she must be tired because she doesn’t even try to argue, going through the motions for bedtime and dispensing good night hugs to him and Reinhardt before heading for her room.

Jack goes to collect his own pajamas but stalls out in the door to his new room. He stares at the piles of boxes, the lone lamp, and the cursed alarm clock perched on a still packed cardboard box serving as his nightstand and heaves a sigh. There is nothing else in the room. Reinhardt comes up beside him and Jack doesn’t need to look at him to tell he’s failing to suppress a rueful smile. He can feel it.

“Jack,” Reinhardt starts but Jack shakes his head.

“I know.” He casts his gaze once more around the octagonal room, hoping against hope it will make the missing bed he failed to purchase appear out of thin air. “I forgot a pretty critical step, I noticed.”

“I wasn’t going to point it out,” Reinhardt chuckles. But he does look sympathetic when Jack scowls at him. “Would you like to borrow a guest room for tonight?”

“Nah,” Jack says. He reaches up to clap him on the shoulder and takes a second to admire his nails. “I’m good. I’d rather stay up here with Hana.” Reinhardt nods, conceding the point. “Besides,” Jack adds with a grin, “the couch would never forgive me it I left it now.”

Reinhardt laughs and punches his arm, clearly using only a tenth of his natural strength. “And your spine may yet disagree. But no matter! If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Jack nods and waves Reinhardt goodnight as he goes to the stairs and leaves them to their new home. Jack spends a few minutes brushing his own teeth and getting ready for what he hopes will be his last night on the couch, but then he pauses. He drifts toward the back of the apartment and listens but silence meets his ear. He double checks the locks on the outside door as he nears it and comes to lean against Hana’s door frame. 

He’d wondered if she would have trouble sleeping in yet another new place, but his vague fears are put to rest. Granted, it was an eventful weekend and the past few days have been just as busy. She must be bone tired. But he’s still a little surprised that she’s settled in so easily. 

Hana is out cold. Her features are relaxed and she has one arm wrapped around her stuffed bunny, pink-tipped fingers tangled in her blankets. He can see that, unlike his own room, she’s made serious progress unpacking her things, making the room look almost like she’s lived here for some time already. And no wonder, since this is the first place she’s had the chance or motivation to make wholly hers. She looks comfortable and…happy. 

Jack watches her peaceful slumber before he turns away, heart full.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! We're hoping to adhere to something like an update every two or three weeks, but we'll do our best to warn about any longer delays. [tumblr](http://eledhiel13.tumblr.com/tagged/repeat-after-me) is the best place to keep track of those. 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with us!


	29. animal related shenanigans, social anxiety ridden encounters

Gabe yanks out his phone for the third time and scowls at the time, muttering a litany of curses to himself, just as the door to the little exam room he sits in opens at long last. The vet tech halts mid-step, probably not expecting to walk into such a colorful greeting. Or it could be because Gabe is introducing his unsullied ears to all sorts of new words. This kid looks like he’s no more than twelve. Maybe Gabe is just getting old.

Peacekeeper picks up his head from where it’s been lying across Gabe’s shoes and whuffs in a soft and much more pleasant greeting. Always happy to make new friends, even in a damn vet’s office. 

“Sorry about the wait,” the tech says. He makes a brief attempt at somewhat timid eye contact before focusing on Peacekeeper, who seems pleased with the attention. He hops up and trots over to the kid, tail wagging, as soon as Gabe waves him forward. The tech drops to a knee and greets the dog as he tries to offer Gabe an explanation. “We had an emergency surgery come in this morning. Put us a bit behind.”

Gabe snorts to himself at his definition of ‘a bit’ but otherwise makes no comment. 

The tech runs the gamut of usual questions for an annual check-up: food, habits, any unusual issues. Gabe answers each shortly, doing a poor job of hiding his impatience and not quite caring. Nothing has changed for Peacekeeper since last year, all he needs is updated shots. This was supposed to be a quick check-up. Instead, Gabe can almost feel the minutes ticking down until his next appointment with one of his kids. 

This is the first time Angie has actually asked to meet with him. He cannot be late or otherwise give her any reason to doubt him. So, of course, the tech enters his notes into the computer and says, with forced cheer, “The vet should be with you shortly.” Gabe resists the impulse to bang his head off the wall with sheer willpower alone.

For once, the universe seems to get the memo that he’s on a time crunch and it’s not long at all before the vet does come in. Dr. Bergham is brisk and efficient in manner, wasting no time for small talk even as she shows nothing but gentleness to Peacekeeper. It’s one of the main things Gabe likes about her. She pronounces the dog to be in perfect health, administers his shots, and shoos them out the door in record time. He can imagine she wants to catch up on her own schedule and is grateful for it.

Even so, Gabe has to do some quick mental math as he settles Peacekeeper in the back seat of the station wagon. His meeting with Angie is across town, and he’ll miss the entire thing if he tries to swing by the house first. 

Gabe frowns at the dog. Peacekeeper gives him a canine smile, tongue lolling. Nothing for it, Gabe decides on a sigh. He just hopes Angie likes dogs. 

To his relief, Angie is more receptive of Peacekeeper than she’s been for most of her human reps so far. She starts petting him right away, one hand threaded through sleek grey fur for most of their sparse conversation. And just when Gabe is starting to wonder if she did just request this meeting for small talk, which he doubts wholeheartedly, she pauses for a long moment. Gabe waits her out, not pressing for anything.

And in the next moment she has her face buried in Peacekeeper’s neck with both arms draped around his lean chest. Words spill out in a torrent, almost unintelligible through the fur. Gabe listens with rapt attention as she describes what she’d seen. And all the while Peacekeeper sits placidly in her arms, as if he’s not a high-energy, hyperactive disaster at all other times. 

Once Angie runs dry of words and they finish their meet-up, Gabe ferries her back to her placement instead returning her to school. Then he makes the necessary calls to get her information to the police so they can start looking into the gang activity in her old neighborhood that she’d described. He just hopes it will help them resolve her parent’s homicide so she can start to heal.

But as good as starting to air her mind must be for Angie, it put Gabe behind on his schedule yet again. He’s not going to begrudge her the delay in the least but it means he still can’t get to the house to drop the dog off, the dog he should not technically have with him on the job at all. He’s going to be late for the all-staff meeting as it is as he fights traffic. Peacekeeper naps in the back seat, not a care in the world, and Gabe might be a little jealous. Worry is at the forefront of his mind as he turns into the lot. 

He parks the car, jumps out, and grabs Peacekeeper’s leash as the dog hops out of the backseat after him. Gabe glances around the parking lot and breathes a sigh of relief upon seeing no one. He’s just hoping he can get the dog settled in his office and get to the meeting with no one noticing. Well behaved today or not, Peacekeeper is definitely not a service dog, so he should not be in the building. But it’s not like Gabe can leave him in the car so in he goes.

Gabe avoids the front door, walking the long way around instead to the side door situated down a damp alleyway. It’s closer to his office within the building and is largely unused except for the occasional smoke break. That makes it his best shot at going unnoticed, provided he can convince Peacekeeper to ignore all the interesting smells such an alley can produce.

Gabe scowls, tugging at the leash to keep him away from a very suspect stain on the concrete as he wrenches the door open. Then he power walks Peacekeeper through the quiet halls, swearing under his breath with his heart thundering in his ears, and just about dives into his office. He refrains from slamming the door behind him by a hair and sighs.

Then a new problem strikes him. There isn’t anything in the room he can give the dog to lay on or to entertain him for the duration.

But Peacekeeper, for his part, looks asleep on his feet. The vaccinations this morning might be taking their toll. Gabe sighs, trying to console himself with the thought that as least Peacekeeper won’t chew up his office, and pulls off his jacket as a sacrifice to the dog. He’ll get the hair off later. He spreads it out underneath his desk, snapping his fingers. Peacekeeper sniffs the jacket once before curling himself up as small as possible to fit on top of it. The dog’s eyelids droop and he seems to drift off again in an instant.

Gabe drops his bag, grabs a legal pad and a pen off his desk, and hurries out the door.

As he expected, the meeting is already in progress. Gabe slips in and takes his normal seat around the conference table next to Amélie. She raises a pointed eyebrow and tries to draw his notepad over to herself with one long finger, making a face when she sees it’s fresh. Gabe waves her off and she sits back with a quiet sigh. He’ll bring her up to speed on Angie’s case later, when they aren’t in the middle of an all-staff meeting. And when he’s not worried about the illegal dog in his office.

She’ll have to be involved anyway if the case makes it to court. Gabe has no idea how the D.A.’s office splits up the workload, but Amélie seems to be the only lawyer he ever works with. She might just enjoy the challenging cases, and Gabe alone produces enough of those to keep her busy. Either way, she’s usually the designated lawyer keeping up to date on the cases going through CPS so her presence in the meeting doesn’t surprise him.

Gabe forces his attention to the meeting and tries to focus on all the boring details. He knows it’s important to keep up to date on everyone’s caseloads, details about difficult placements in particular, in the event they need to cover for one another. But right now it’s the last thing on his mind. He’s too deep thinking over the information that Angie relayed and how he can best support her as her case moves forward. It’s not going to be a fast process, nor will it be an easy one, and she already has a lot on her plate dealing with the murder of her parent.

He starts making notes on her case in his own shorthand, pen scratching through a word at the sharp tone of, “Gabriel.” He looks up and meets his boss’s even gaze, doing his best to appear attentive. Akande doesn’t seem fooled in the least and the rest of the room is focused on him with expectant looks. “Would you provide us with your update?” Akande says, his deep voice rumbling. 

“Sure,” Gabe says and relays the bare bones of Angie’s case as he tries to think through what’s going on with his other kids. For once, the rest seem to be pretty stable and settled and he finishes his report easily.

Akande nods at him when he’s done and shifts his attention to the next victim in line. Gabe forces himself to pay attention as the meeting winds down. The rest of his coworkers get up as soon as it finishes and start wandering out of the room, but Amélie arrests Gabe’s attempt with a look. He waits for her and opens his mouth to give her a fuller report but Akande starts marching on an intercept course.

Amélie takes one look and says, “I will catch up with you later,” before flitting out the door, too quick for Gabe to tell her he’ll come to her. He can only hope she won’t go straight to his office as Akande comes abreast of him. 

“Gabriel. You had an interesting morning. I would like the details.” Akande says, fixing him with his weighty gaze. “And I have an emergency placement that came through this morning. I would like you to begin working on it immediately.”

“Of course.” Gabe nods and writes off any hope he had of getting Peacekeeper home before the end of the day. At least the dog can wait in the car without risk to Gabe’s job during a home visit, if this new case requires one. It’s all part of the job, and Keep gets to experience that first hand today.

He talks as they walk, giving the full details of Angie’s case as they enter Akande’s office. Akande listens and nods here and there, but offers very little. Gabe knows the man trusts him to do this job, despite Gabe’s tendency toward the unorthodox. In fact, he gets the feeling that his boss likes his style, even if he can’t outwardly approve of it.

Once he’s finished, Akande hands over the file on the new emergency placement before waving Gabe off. Gabe strides back to his office, making a quick detour through the breakroom to grab a bowl in case Peacekeeper is thirsty, and tries to flip through the file in his hands as he walks.

Sure enough, he kicks open to the door to find Amélie’s unimpressed expression aimed at him from where she perches on the edge of his desk. Peacekeeper sits at her feet and stares up at her, tongue lolling and hope clear in his eyes. She may never pet him of her own volition, but that doesn’t seem to stop him from trying to convince her she should. Amélie says nothing as he enters. Gabe closes the door before speaking.

“The vet was running late this morning,” Gabe offers as an explanation and crouches to pet the dog as he trots over to investigate his arrival—and his offering of water.

“Oh, certainly,” Amélie says, waving a hand in a gesture that looks no less sharp for its gracefulness. “And of course that means the dog comes to work. That explains everything.”

“Leave it, would you,” Gabe almost snaps, rubbing a hand across Peacekeeper’s ears. “It’s been a long day.”

Amélie sighs but all she says is, “If Akande ever finds him here, I will have nothing to do with this.”

“It’s not going to happen again,” Gabe says with a glare. Amélie returns the look with the full force of her disbelief behind it.

But she does drop the subject so Gabe gives her his report on Angie’s case, both of them pretending Peacekeeper isn’t curled up happily at their feet. She accepts his details and goes on her way, shutting the door behind her with a soft click before any passersby can see into the office despite her disapproval. 

Gabe allows himself a deep sigh and sits down, feet placed in a somewhat awkward position to avoid kicking Peacekeeper as he lays back down on his makeshift bed. He tries to put the stress of the day out of his mind as he starts logging his own notes on Angie’s case and begins reviewing the details on the new kid.

Gabe doesn’t notice when his free hand drifts down to stroke the dog’s ears as he reads the scant information that they have for the new case. A teenager whose parent was killed in a car accident, the uncle taking custody. He frowns. There’s something about the information that tickles Gabe’s suspicion. He bets there’s something more going on here, though he’s not sure what it is yet. And he’d guess Akande probably thinks so as well. He tends to give Gabe the more unusual cases, a trend that dates back to his unexpected success with Genji’s case when he was first hired in at the office.

Oh well, he thinks. No way to figure it out without checking into the situation for himself. He clips Peacekeeper’s leash back on and herds him out through the alley to go investigate the placement.

\--

Jack stares at the door of the coffee shop. It looks as innocent as ever, glass smudged with hand prints and fliers taped at random on all sides. It’s a door he’s walked through almost weekly to meet with Ana, and has never looked threatening before. He knows the layout of the shop just inside. He knows the position and sight line of each window and the exits. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s comfortable in there, but it is a known territory. It’s why he suggested it for today.

And yet, he can’t force himself to get out of the car.

He knows the foreboding tension laying heavy across his shoulders has nothing to do with that innocuous door. It has everything to do with the fact that he’s not meeting Ana for coffee this time. He’s meeting Damian.

Jack takes a deep breath, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater. It’s the blue one Hana picked out first on their shopping trip this weekend. And he’s wearing it, having lost the argument that it’s not at all cold enough to warrant a sweater. According to her, fashion does not care about silly things like temperature.

Either that or Indiana ingrained a very different definition of cold in him than the native Californians around him. Come to think of it, he does see quite a few people in no fewer than two layers wandering in and out of the shop. 

Jack slides a fingers under the edge of his sleeve and presses the new bracelet lying against his wrist. It buzzes after a few seconds, and his phone follows it up with a text chime. Jack pulls it out, taking a little longer than he’d like to remember how to unlock the damn thing. The waiting message from Hana is unsurprising.

> Song, H. >> quit stalling and get in there!

Jack snorts to himself, but it does get him moving. He takes a deep breath and climbs out of his car, stretching as he gets upright to work out some aches in his back. He double checks the back seat, making sure his uniform is still hanging where it should be, and locks the car. He’s not planning on being here long enough to have to go straight to work, but Hana insisted he be prepared. She seems to have way more confidence in his social skills than he does.

Jack takes a deep, deliberate breath and marches to the door. He’s delayed long enough.

But he almost stalls out again as he reaches the entrance. Momentum alone keeps him moving and he yanks on the door handle with a little more force than may be necessary. He breathes again, trying to shrug off the resurgent rush of anxiety, and steps into the lobby proper. He does his best to appear as though his heart rate didn’t just skyrocket at the door of a coffee shop of all things, but no one seems to be paying him any attention. 

Including Damien, due to the small fact that he’s not here. Jack’s not surprised. He must have been sitting in his car for a good fifteen minutes before he worked up the nerve to enter, not that he’d ever admit as much to Hana. He hadn’t seen his date walk inside in all that time.

Jack’s not willing to contemplate what that says about his anxiety, ramping up so high despite knowing he’s the first one here.

And it strikes yet again now that he’s loitering in the entrance. What is he supposed to do now? Does he get his own coffee and sit down to wait? Is that rude? Should he grab a table and wait for Damian before ordering? But then he’d be taking up space without yet being a paying customer. Is that allowed? Jack has no idea what the etiquette of the situation is here. He hasn’t done this in…. 

He closes his eyes, trying to cut off that line of thought. No matter how long it’s been, none of his dates have ever been somewhere as peaceful and…public…as a coffee shop.

If only he and Gabe had ever had that luxury.

Jack shakes his head, shoving all thoughts of the past into the back of his mind, and tries to focus on a plan for the now. If he were meeting Ana here, he’d just get his own coffee and take a seat to wait for her. But this has to be different. Jack pulls out his phone and frowns, trying to figure out how to open the internet. Maybe there’s some kind of wikiHow about dating rules he can find. If he’s quick enough, he might even figure it out before the barista’s expression turns from curious to straight up weirded out.

But then the door opens behind him and Damian hustles inside. What should be a relief becomes a whole new wave of panic.

Now what?

Damian either doesn’t notice his freeze or is nice enough to just not mention it. He just smiles at Jack and greets him warmly. “Hi. Sorry I’m late. I had a meeting with a parent that ran pretty long.”

Jack does his best to pretend that he’s a normal person that knows how to do any of this. “Hey. It’s fine, I wasn’t waiting long,” he straight up lies and shakes the hand that Damian offers. Damian keeps hold of his hand and turns it over, taking a look at Jack’s fingers.

Jack follows his gaze and bites back a few choice words. His nails are still painted a bright, cheerful blue. He can’t believe he forgot to remove the polish.

Damian raises an eyebrow, mouth quirked in a fond little grin. “New look?”

Jack tries to get his tongue to cooperate with this talking thing. “Hana. It was a tradition or something she had with her parents, when they moved. I,” Jack pauses, unsure that he actually wants to admit this, “actually forgot it was even there.”

Damian laughs. “Well, you pull it off well.” He gestures Jack ahead of him to the counter and Jack gratefully lets the subject of his inadvertent accessory drop. Besides, ordering coffee provides a structured step, something he can do without freaking out over each word that comes out of his mouth. Puts a welcome delay on the real conversation he’s about to have with someone who’s still, in reality, a stranger. Even if he is a very nice—and very easy on the eyes—stranger.

Jack has a quick internal debate with himself as he steps to the counter before ordering the sugary coffee that he knows he wants. Black coffee may be cheaper, but he feels a deep need for the extra sugar to get through this date and then work afterwards. He doesn’t indulge himself the extra cost too much—when his stress level requires it, more often than not—but today it seems warranted. And besides, ordering something that syrupy can’t make any worse of an impression than bright blue nails did.

But Damian intervenes when Jack goes to pay for his coffee. “I asked you out,” he says, handing his card to the barista after ordering a chai latte before Jack can protest. “You can get the next one.”

Jack laughs, hoping it masks the spike of minor terror that cuts through him at the suggestion, and moves down the counter to wait for his caramel mocha. “So sure this is going to go well, huh?” he asks when Damian joins him. 

“I’ve got high hopes,” Damian replies with an open smile. 

Jack marvels at his confidence. He’s still not sure he’s going to survive this encounter in the first place.

“We’ll see,” is all he says instead. Drinks in hand, he leads them to his usual table when he comes with Ana on autopilot. It’s in the back corner, perfectly situated to allow Jack to put his back to the wall and keep unobstructed views of the rest of the room. And no one can get behind him and trigger any unwanted reactions, something he does not need to happen today.

Luckily, Damian doesn’t comment as they pass multiple empty tables. And he allows Jack to take his preferred seat without a word as well. Jack’s grateful for the lack of questions. He doesn’t like dwelling on the myriad of habits he’s picked up during or after his time in service most days, and never enjoys having to explain them to others. So he takes his seat and checks his sight lines as he settles, calming one usual undercurrent of worry when he’s satisfied with what he sees. 

But then he looks across the table and his mind blanks, the remains of his calm evaporating. This is it, show time. The official start to the date. And yet no words come to mind, zero conversation starters. Aren’t first dates supposed to be get-to-know-you sessions? How does that even start? What questions are allowed? Which are too much? He has no idea. The last new person he’d had to ‘get to know’ was Zenyatta, when they were partnered together for the first time. And that’s an incomparable situation, particularly considering how little he felt he needed to know to work with him.

Damian takes a sip of his coffee and graces him with a smile. But otherwise he seems content to let Jack make the first move. Jack tries to swallow his panic and fiddles with his cup, grateful at least that Damian seems to be taking care not to apply any pressure. Letting Jack adjust in his own time.

So Jack forces himself to meet the lovely brown eyes of the man he’s on a date with and clears his throat. “So,” he starts, drawing in a shaky breath, “I haven’t really, uhm. Done this. In a long time.”

“That’s fair,” Damian says with an easy nod. “There’s no script to follow or anything, so try to relax. We can wing it however feels best.” Then he pauses, squinting as he looks off in thought with a little laugh. “Although I don’t know, you think that would make it easier?”

“Oh God, so much easier,” Jack breathes. “A list of questions or something. So much less stressful. I’m sure Hana could find us something like that. I swear that kid could find anything on the internet.” He bites his lip, cringing internally. Isn’t he supposed to be talking about himself, not his kid?

But Damian laughs, the sound of it light and warm. “Seriously. I think kids these days can find anything and everything online. And I have no idea how.”

Jack nods, relieved, and takes a sip. Then he pushes up the sleeves of his sweater. Hana may not agree with the look, but he feels like he’s going to overheat in this place. Sixty degrees is not cold enough for this in the first place, and the inside of the shop is starting to feel like an oven. Or maybe that’s just his lingering embarrassment. 

Damian raises his eyebrows and leans forward when his eyes fall on Jack’s uncovered wrist. “Oh, is that the bracelet?” he asks.

“Yup. They came in today.” Jack extends his arm after a brief moment of hesitation. Damian reaches out and takes his wrist between gentle fingers to inspect the bracelet, sending a pleasant shiver down Jack’s spine to his own surprise. “Hana had fun setting them up before I left. I think she’s just happy it gave her an excuse to mess with my phone,” he adds with a sigh. “I got it back and everything’s changed.” Jack pulls out his phone with his free hand, unlocking it and showing off the new shockingly pink background that somehow manages to sparkle at random intervals.

Damian laughs. “You haven’t changed it back?”

Jack shrugs with a faint resurgence of embarrassment. “No idea how. It’s a new phone. I just got this weekend, because my old one broke.”

Damian shifts his chair around the table, coming a little closer to Jack. Jack’s heart rate speeds up again before he can calm himself down. He tells himself to relax, that Damian swung around on the side by the window. He still has a clear exit in case something happens. 

In a coffee shop. On a peaceful corner in Burbank. 

Jack closes his eyes for a brief second and tries to bite down on his sigh.

Damian seems oblivious to Jack’s little freak out, or at least makes an effort to appear so. “Here, I can show you,” he offers as he settles his chair.

“Sure.” Jack hands the phone over and pays attention to the steps required to fix it. Then, at Damian’s polite noise of inquiry, he retells the story of how the old one broke. He must do a fair job at delivery, getting into the story for once, because Damian outright laughs.

It goes a long way for Jack’s peace of mind and he finds himself relaxing at last. The rest of their conversation goes far smoother than he’d ever expected. Jack doesn’t even bat an eye when Damian slides his chair even little closer upon their return to the table after grabbing some pastries. He’s surprised when his phone alarm goes off, signaling the approach of his shift’s start time. 

Maybe Hana was right after all.

“Need to go?” Damian asks, following Jack’s lead as he starts collecting his garbage. Jack nods and Damian’s face falls a little. “I was wondering if you wanted to go find some dinner?”

“Another time,” Jack says smoothly, or as smoothly as he says anything. “I’ve got to work tonight.”

“Ah, okay,” Damian says as they stand. “This weekend maybe?”

Jack does some quick thinking as they clear their table, holding the door for Damian on their way out. Maybe he could squeeze some time in around his shift on Saturday, if Hana and Reinhardt don’t mind. Then again, them just about shoving him out the door this afternoon makes him think they’d be on board with it. 

Jack stops by his car and fiddles with his keys. “Maybe,” he says, to his own surprise. “I’m on nights for now, so it would have to be early.”

Damian nods without an ounce of hesitation. “That’s fine. Just let me know.” Then he steps forward, telegraphing his moves, and Jack forces himself to stay relaxed as he accepts a quick hug. Damian even adds a peck on the cheek and Jack does his best to weather it, eyes darting over Damian’s shoulder as he checks for trouble, for the wrong person seeing, on instinct. Old habits die hard indeed.

“Give me a call or text and we’ll set something up,” Damian says as he steps back.

Jack takes a breath and smiles as best he can. “No smoke signals this time?”

Damian laughs and starts heading across the parking lot. “This one might have too many details to convey that way, and these I don’t want to misinterpret. Have a good night, Jack. Stay safe.” 

“Bye,” Jack says, wincing at the lame send off, and climbs into his car.

His wrist buzzes as he reaches for the seat belt and he jumps, the bracelet being the last thing on his mind. He recovers and touches it to send a buzz back, then takes another deep breath and starts his car. But his phone chimes before he can get underway so he checks it first.

> Song, H. >> so??? did you have fun?

Jack shakes his head at her timing. She must have been watching the clock, calculating when he’d have to leave to make it to work on time.

> sent << it was fine

The response is immediate, just a long string of smiley face emojis. Jack lets the remaining tension bleed out of his shoulders as he chuckles.

> sent << you can say i told you so in the morning
> 
> Song, H. >> yaaay!

Jack smiles and pockets his phone, gripping the steering wheel and heads back to some semblance of normalcy.

\--

Genji collects his backpack and exchanges farewells with a few of his fellow teachers as he makes his way out of the martial arts studio. He sets course for his—well, technically Jesse’s—Jeep and tosses his heavy bag into the back. He wishes he’d thought to extract his textbooks now that he has a car to leave them in instead of hauling them around after school, and slumps into the driver’s seat with a sigh.

He perks up enough to wave to the last of his students as she and her dad climb into their own car and head off. He might be tired after his long day, but never dampens his fondness for his students. 

Although at this exact moment, it’s rivaled by his fondness for Jesse’s Jeep. Genji stretches in the limited space of his seat, letting out a sigh as he takes a moment to relax. The last few days with it at his disposal have been heavenly: no more soliciting rides, no more buses, no more depending on anyone. He’s sure Zenyatta and Gabe each appreciate not having to work out how to get him to and from each of his admittedly numerous activities. But even if they don’t, he savors the freedom.

He really should be thanking Jesse. He compiles an idle list in his head of potential days he could make a surprise trip over to UCLA, but makes a face at his sparse options. The only real free time he’ll have in the short term is next weekend, and he’s already devoted that to a hiking trip with Zenyatta. Their schedules align for such things once in a blue moon and he’s not willing to forgo it. 

Jesse understands. And he seems to have no trouble catching up with him and everyone else instead, although he claims he’s only seeking home cooked meals. 

Genji reaches into the dash compartment and pulls out his phone, checking for notifications. He doesn’t like having it on him while he’s trying to teach a bunch of five and six-year-olds the basics of ninjutsu. Even if it means he misses the occasional text. And sure enough, the one waiting for him is a few hours old so he responds right away.

> Antonio >> So what’s my favorite cyborg ninja up to this afternoon?
> 
> sent << teaching a bunch of kids to be ninjas. fortunately they are missing the cyborg component

Antonio’s reply comes without delay and it brings a smile to Genji’s face.

> Antonio >> Ah yes, less competition that way.  
>  Antonio >> So you're busy all night?

Genji bites his lip. The other downside to his schedule is it makes carving out private time for his significant others something of a challenge, and it ended up being a sore point in no few previous relationships. But so far, Antonio doesn’t seem bothered by it.

> sent << kind of. I am done teaching for the day, but I need to run peacekeeper. and I plan to cook dinner at gabe's if he is not home yet.  
>  sent << and the band needs to have an argument about the set list for tomorrow. we will likely do that by phone though.  
>  sent << apparently it is a school night and there are things called curfews. or so I have been told.
> 
> Antonio >> Ugh, running. No thank you.  
>  Antonio >> And hmm, curfews. I’ve heard of this concept, but honestly I thought it was a myth.

Genji laughs. He doesn’t yet have many details about Antonio’s home life, but he’s not surprised. The fact he’d planned on taking the bus to BlizzCon alone was a big clue. Genji starts the engine and waffles a bit on what to send next before deciding to make an offer. If Antonio refuses, so be it. But he really would like to see him outside of school, and this may be his best shot.

> sent << well our route does go right by your house. I could be persuaded to walk the end if you wanted to come over for dinner.
> 
> Antonio >> I can be very persuasive. =)  
>  Antonio >> I know how to follow directions in the kitchen.  
>  Antonio >> And chop things.  
>  Antonio >> Usually.

Genji laughs, more pleased than he expected that Antonio has no objections to the proposal.

> sent << then I, sir, will see you in about an hour. I'll be the enticingly disheveled one with the big slobbery dog.
> 
> Antonio >> So long as the dog does not slobber on me. There's nothing enticing about that.
> 
> sent << I can make no promises. :-)

Genji dumps his phone in his bag and pulls out of the studio’s parking lot, mulling over ways to increase his free time. His best option is to drop a teaching class or two per week, but he knows he won’t do that. He’s determined to build up enough savings to fund his trip around the world once he finishes high school, and has no intention of leaning on Gabe or Zenyatta to accomplish it. And he doesn’t want to be forced to cut his trip short, or end up stranded halfway around the world with no money left. He’s got this. It’s his idea and his plan, and he’s going to do it all on his own.

Oh, well. It’s a relief that Antonio’s doesn’t mind spending time at Gabe’s house. Others like Bella never wanted to, making it that much harder to find time. Then again, Bella never really understood why he’s over there so often, so he could see why it made her uncomfortable. Antonio seems to get it.

Or at least he likes Gabe enough not to mind it.

Genji parks the jeep in front of the house and treks across the lawn, walking inside to find silence. He frowns. He expected a furry full-body tackle. Peacekeeper’s morning vet appointment prevented their usual before-school run, and Genji can admit he wasn’t looking forward to doing it right after all of his evening classes instead. But he would never deny the dog, and thought Peacekeeper would be ready and raring to go. 

But it seems he’s not even here. 

Genji pads through the house and finds Sombra curled up on her bed, the frown marring her features lit by the glow of her laptop screen. Reaper crouches on the very top of the cat tower, chattering at a squirrel in a nearby tree, and Haku bats at a ball on the floor nearby. Peacekeeper is still nowhere in sight. 

Sombra is so engrossed in her work that she seems not to notice his entrance. Genji contemplates a few things he could do while her attention is captured, but he dismisses them all as he studies her. She looks unhappy with whatever she’s working on, and adding a prank likely wouldn’t be fun for either of them. 

So he leans against the door frame instead. Haku notices him first and scurries over, sniffing at his pant leg before climbing all the way up to perch on his shoulder. The movement seems to draw Sombra’s attention at last.

“Problems?” Genji asks once she looks up from her screen.

“No.” Sombra pauses, as if weighing her next words. Then she shrugs. “Just not finding things where I expect them.”

Genji makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. “Anything I can do to help?” he asks, despite knowing that Sombra is far more competent with a computer than he is. He can get by, but she can do things he didn’t even know were possible.

“No. I just need to try a different approach.” Sombra glares at her screen like it personally offended her before looking back up. “What do you need?”

“Looking for Keep.” Haku pushes his nose into Genji’s neck so he reaches up and rubs his soft head with a gentle finger.

Sombra shrugs. “He wasn’t here when I got home. I’m guessing Gabe still has him.”

“Very well. Then I am going to get Antonio and will return shortly,” Genji says, but Sombra appears to have shifted her attention back to her computer. Genji turns and jogs down the stairs. Whether or not she’s listening he calls back over his shoulder, “And I am taking Haku with me!” He retrieves the small harness and slips it over his ferret’s head. “Hopefully, you will be an acceptable replacement for a slobbery dog,” Genji tells him, picking at his class clothes as Haku resettles on his shoulder. “I think I am still enticingly disheveled even without the run, so we should be recognized.”

He gets out the door and eyes the Jeep, contemplating driving over. But it’s not far enough to make it worth it. He may be tired from his own class and the ones he teaches, but it’s enough of a relief not to have to run alongside an exuberant dog that Genji starts off at a leisurely stroll.

It takes far less than the hour he predicted to arrive at Antonio’s house. Genji knocks on the door, bending down to let Haku scurry off his arm and investigate the flower bed or whatever caught his sudden attention. He hops around in the dirt, nose to the ground and darting this way and that, intent on something Genji can’t determine. But then the door opens so he pushes himself to his feet, turning with a smile. 

Antonio greets him with one in return, but holds up one hand to indicate he needs a second as the other presses his phone to his ear. 

“No problem, Mom,” he says, turning to close and lock the front door. “I’m going to a friend’s for dinner anyway.” He’s quiet for a moment to listen so Genji watches Haku as he contemplates a small mound of dirt he seems to find suspicious. “No, not Charlie. They’ve got a group project or something to do tonight. It’s Genji.” Another pause; Haku somersaults to tackle a woodchip. “Yes, Mom. That Genji. I only know the one.” Genji looks up with a grin and Antonio meets his gaze, performing a fond roll of his eyes. “I’ve got my phone. I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.” 

Antonio hangs up and shoves his phone in a pocket. He makes a show of glancing around before squinting at Genji. “Imposter! Where’s the big, slobbery dog? You can’t be who I’m waiting for.”

Genji performs a dramatic gasp, complete with dropping to his knees and clutching his chest. “It is me, I swear it. Am I not enticingly disheveled enough?”

Antonio raises an eyebrow, pretending to look unimpressed. “Eh. You might pass for it,” he says. But he can’t keep a straight face any longer and laughs, reaching a hand down to help Genji up.

Genji snags Haku out of the flower bed and deposits him back on his shoulder before accepting it. He makes use of the momentum to wrap an arm around Antonio and pull him in for a hug. “Hi,” he says and pecks Antonio on the lips. 

“Hello,” Antonio replies, cheeks faintly pink. “Where’s the dog?”

Genji shrugs as they break apart. “He was not there when I got to Gabe’s house, so I brought this guy instead. You have not met Haku yet, have you?” Antonio shakes his head and extends a hand to rub behind Haku’s ear. “Is he an acceptable substitute?” Genji asks, raising his arm a little to let Haku clamber over to Antonio’s shoulders.

“Definitely. Much better than a slobbery dog.” Antonio holds himself still while he waits for Haku to settle. “And cuter, too.”

Genji snorts and reaches down to take Antonio’s hand. “I am glad you approve. Now, we should go.”

“Okay,” Antonio replies, squeezing Genji’s hand and following him down the sidewalk. “I make zero promises about my cooking skills being anywhere near your level, though.”

Genji heaves a sigh. “I will survive somehow. You cannot be worse than Sombra.”

Antonio laughs and nudges him with a shoulder, careful not to dislodge Haku. “Come on, give her a chance.”

“I have,” Genji says with finality, performing a full body shudder. Antonio just shakes his head. Genji gives him an angelic grin. “But what I truly wish to know is why Peacekeeper is still out of the house. It is very unusual.”

“Would Sombra have him?”

“No, she is already home. And said she did not know where he is either,” Genji says with a shrug as they cross a street.

“Then would Gabe have him?” Antonio asks, frown tugging at his mouth.

“To work?” Genji bites his lip. “He did take him to the vet this morning, but I believe there are rules against bringing him to work afterwards. Government offices tend to be strict about allowing service animals only,” Genji says. Then, noticing Antonio’s polite confusion, he clarifies, “Gabe works for CPS.” 

“Ah,” Antonio says with a nod that looks very knowing. “Yes, there would be. I know base housing rules has been my mom’s main argument against a pet. We’ve been on some that have been pretty uptight about it.” Antonio sighs, a touch of melancholy crossing his face. “That and moving constantly.”

“How many places have you lived?” Genji asks, brows drawing together, as they turn the corner onto Gabe’s street.

Antonio shrugs. “I’ve lost count.” His tone is nonchalant, but to Genji it seems forced. So he releases the hand he’s holding and instead wraps his arm around Antonio’s shoulders, pulling him in close. Haku chitters at him but otherwise holds his ground. Antonio sighs. “It comes with the job, I guess. And she does love the job.” Genji gives him an understanding nod. Antonio leans in to rest his head against Genji’s and goes on, a little more hopeful, “But we should be here longer term. That’s what she said when we left Germany, at least.”

“I am glad.” Genji turns his head enough to distribute another kiss. Antonio smiles, color diffusing across his cheeks again. 

“Me, too.” He takes a deep breath and seems to shake off the thoughts. Then he points at the house they approach and asks, “Isn’t that Gabe’s car?”

Genji looks overs to see the station wagon sitting in the driveway. He blinks at it. “It is.”

Antonio snorts. “Then I guess the mystery of the missing dog should be solved soon.”

Genji rewards him with a bright grin, releasing his shoulders to grab his hand again. He leads Antonio through the gate and in the back door.

He spots Peacekeeper right away, sprawled across the kitchen floor and looking comatose. But then he lifts his head, wags his tail exactly once in greeting, before resuming his nap with no further ado. Genji grins. Whatever the dog has been up to all day, it seems to have done the job of wearing him out.

Gabe stands at the stove, his back to the room. The pleasant sounds of something sizzling away fill the kitchen, spices perfuming the air already. A cutting board sits abandoned on the island with a few vegetables—peppers, tomatoes, some whole lettuce—resting near it. He looks over his shoulder at their entrance.

“Hey, kid. Antonio,” he says with a nod to each of them before he turns back to the stove. “Put the ferret away and come give me some help.”

“Hm, perhaps I will,” Genji says. He crouches next to Peacekeeper and the dog rolls over for a belly rub seemingly without waking from his nap. “That is, once you explain where this guy has been all day.” 

Gabe reaches over to take a playful swipe at him but Genji manages to dodge it. He darts in for his own attack, hopping over the dog, but Gabe is swift and grabs him in a full body hold. He digs his fingers into Genji’s side and Genji dissolves into laughter, curling up around Gabe’s arm. 

“Okay, okay! I give,” he pleads and Gabe stops right away, releasing him once he regains his balance. Genji straightens up to see Antonio grinning at him, safely on the other side of the island from the dog. “What?” he asks, feigning defensiveness.

“I think you need to work on your moves. They’re gonna take your ninja card away,” Antonio says and Gabe laughs.

Genji gives them each a mock-glare. “I would prove you wrong, but you are holding the ferret.” 

“Sure,” Antonio snorts. “Big words from the guy that just got taken out in less than a second.” Genji makes a face but can’t hold the expression, laughing right along with them before long. Antonio hands Haku over when Genji gets close. “I’m not sure where this guy goes,” he says, dispensing one more head rub as Haku presses up into it with bliss.

“I will handle him. Be right back.” Genji sprints up the stairs, taking the time required to coax a reluctant Haku into his cage, before hurrying back down. Sombra is also in the kitchen when he gets back, setting the table. Antonio helps Gabe carry all the makings of a taco dinner to the table.

Genji washes his hands and slides into the chair next to Antonio. “I thought you required my help?”

Gabe shrugs, unwrapping the foil around some warmed tortillas. “You took too long.”

Genji pouts but accepts the dish of rice Sombra hands him. “You still have to tell us what happened today.”

“Do I?” Gabe asks with a sly grin. He seems to be in a very good mood and Genji’s curiosity is piqued. And it seems he’s not the only one, because he receives help from another quarter.

“Yes,” Sombra says and pokes him with one long fingernail. “We thought he’d been dog-napped or something. Spill.”

Gabe sighs, looking towards the ceiling for a moment as if besieged by great trials, before he begins building his plate. “The vet ran long,” is all he says.

Genji exchanges a frustrated glance with the other two as he piles a taco together. “Yes? And?”

“And,” Gabe says, drawing the word out as if relishing their curiosity, “he came to work with me today. That’s all.”

Genji returns Antonio’s startled look with one of his own. “But,” Genji starts, squinting at Gabe, “are there not rules against that?”

“Sure,” Gabe agrees. “I had to sneak him in, a very clandestine op. Mission Impossible music, stealthy infiltration montage, the works.”

Antonio laughs. “I’m sure the music was critical.” Gabe gives him an approving nod.

“And you got away with this?” Sombra asks, incredulous even though she’s grinning.

Gabe shakes his head. “Amélie caught me, but she disavowed all knowledge on the spot. Didn’t want to deal with my nonsense, no idea why.”

“I don’t blame her,” Sombra says, tilting almost off her chair to avoid Gabe’s elbow.

“We weren’t in the office very long, so it could have been worse,” Gabe goes on. “Had a home visit after so he got to sit in the car.”

“Did you tell them the dog was in case you did not like what you found in your visit?” Genji asks and Gabe snorts.

“I should have,” he says, shaking his head. “Doubt they would have believed it, though. He was tired from the his shots this morning. He was pretty good all day, in fact. Even helped out when I had a meeting with a kid, seemed to comfort her.”

“Would you take him again if you could?” Antonio asks.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Gabe admits. Genji meets Sombra’s eyes and raises his brows, wondering if it was just the kid that Peacekeeper comforted through the long day. Gabe is in noticeably high spirits. Although it’s a moot point, as Gabe highlights by saying, “But he’s not a trained therapy or service dog, so home he stays. Which means,” he pauses to point a finger right between Genji’s eyes, “you aren’t off the hook for running him.”

Genji expels the most dramatic sigh he’s capable of producing as the others laughs. “I suppose I will survive, somehow.”


	30. surprises, for birthdays or otherwise

Jesse kicks his backpack aside and struggles out of his chair, climbing over the piles of textbooks scattered around his desk. He frowns as he tries to remember where he left his phone. It helpfully chimes for the fifth time, the sound muffled from under a few blankets, and Jesse climbs up into his bunk to grab it. Sure enough, it’s Lena.

> tracer! >> jesse help i need advice  
>  tracer! >> also what did you for 5 i am second guessing myself this is dumb!!!  
>  tracer! >> but really i need your help you live here right??  
>  tracer! >> im serious its an emergency!!!!  
>  tracer! >> CALL MEEEE

Jesse snorts and hits the call button.

“Finally!” Lena almost shouts into his ear.

“What the hell do you want?” Jesse asks, trying and failing to keep his amusement out of his voice. He settles cross-legged and leans back against the wall, drawing the edge of his comforter over his knees. Hanzo twists to look over his shoulder from his own desk with an eyebrow raised and Jesse gives him a reassuring wave. “Darlin’, this better not be about prankin’ Professor Lindholm’s office again. I told you that ain’t gonna do any good.”

“It would make me feel better,” Lena says with vehemence. Jesse shakes his head but doesn’t say anything, knowing it’ll only encourage her. “And no, for once it’s not about that. Much more important!”

“This oughta be good,” Jesse says and Lena shushes him.

“Look, Saturday is Emily’s birthday and I want to surprise her,” she says in a rush. “I want to take her somewhere nice and treat her right, you know?”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Jesse says, resisting the urge to coo at her at the last second. He can picture her sticking her tongue out at him anyway. “But what do I have to do with that?”

“I need suggestions! You live here, mate,” she says, laughing. “Where’s a good place to take her?”

“If you’re willin’ to take the hike to Pasadena, then I can help you. Otherwise, you’re outta luck,” Jesse says cheerfully. Lena groans. “But I’ll take a survey, see if anyone else knows.”

“Thank you! See, I knew you were good for something,” Lena chirps and Jesse snorts.

“I ain’t promisin’ nothin’,” he says but he knows Genji at least will likely have some ideas. “So what about tomorrow, you skippin’?”

“I’m going to go right after lab and pick her up first, see if we can make it back in time together,” Lena says, a rustling noise punctuating her words like she’s crinkling up some paper. “Ugh, starting over again.”

“I got C for five, if you still needed to know,” Jesse says, making a face himself though she can’t see it. “I ain’t any more confident in it than you are, gotta admit.”

“I’ve moved beyond physics,” Lena says with a moan. “Not in the sense that I’ve finished, more like onto another astral plane or something,” she adds with another rustle. Jesse can picture her dramatic swoon and hears Fareeha laugh in the background. She says something but Jesse can’t make it out. Lena dutifully passes the message along. “Fareeha asked if you’re still going to the party. And by ask, I obviously mean demanded.”

“Of course,” Jesse snorts. “And yeah, I’m comin’.”

“Invite Hanzo!” Lena says at twice her previous volume and Jesse claps a hand over the phone. He shoots a quick glance over to the other side of the room but it seems like Hanzo didn’t hear her.

“I’m gonna,” Jesse says in a rush, to keep her from shouting again. “Doubt it’ll go over any better than the other times, but I will.”

“Persistence is the key to success, mate.”

“Or insanity,” Jesse adds and Lena laughs. “Alright, I gotta finish my own shit. Good luck in your astral-whatever. I’ll let you know if I hear any good suggestions.”

“Thank you!” Lena gushes and hangs up. Jesse chuckles to himself and climbs down from his loft. He tries to refocus on his homework, manages to force himself through his last few shaky answers. He lets out a deep sigh from his diaphragm and plants his face into his open book. 

“Going well, I see,” Hanzo says behind him and Jesse snorts.

“I’m gonna be so happy when this semester is over,” he says, picking his head up and turning around to slouch back against his desk. He props one foot against the back of his chair and rests his arm across his knee. He’s going for cool but he knocks his hat off the back of his chair and Hanzo smiles a little more. 

“Are you sure the next will not be worse?” Hanzo asks, turning sit backwards and folding his legs with far more grace.

Jesse shakes his head. “Nah.” He sweeps a hand in front of himself. “Smooth sailing from there on out.”

Hanzo tilts his head to one side, expression conveying something like amused skepticism. “If you are certain.”

“I’d settle for the end of this week, it’s been hell,” Jesse grumbles, reaching over to slam his physics textbook shut. He glances back at Hanzo out of the corner of his eye, doing his level best to appear casual. “Can’t wait to let loose a little. How ‘bout you? Got anything fun planned?”

Hanzo performs a shoulder roll that might be an actual shrug. “I have plans on Saturday, yes. I suppose they will be enjoyable enough.”

Jesse grins. “Well, if you’re in the market for anything else, there’s a party Friday night a few of us are hittin’ up. Sound interestin’?”

Hanzo opens his mouth and Jesse tries not to take it to heart, seeing the ‘no’ forming on his lips. But then Hanzo pauses, eyes sliding to the side, and closes his mouth again. Jesse waits him out and tries to ignore the impulse to hold his breath, the little skip in his heartbeat. 

Hanzo narrows his eyes, mouth turned down in a tiny frown. Then he meets Jesse’s gaze again and says, decisively, “Yes.” Jesse’s eyebrows bounce up his forehead and Hanzo scowls, though it doesn’t last. The look softens into something a little self-deprecating. “Surprising, is it?”

“Nah,” Jesse lies. 

Hanzo chuckles. The deep sounds sends little sparks down Jesse’s spine. “Thank you for the invitation,” Hanzo says. “Who else is coming?”

“Mei and Zarya are, for sure,” Jesse says, ticking the people Hanzo would know off on his fingers. “Fareeha, and I think Angela. Lena said maybe but she might not make it.”

“Ah,” Hanzo says, relaxing a little. Jesse wonders if he feels better knowing he’ll have more than one person to talk to. And, he realizes, the right thing to do would be give him the chance to increase that number even more.

Jesse swallows the little lump in his throat and says, “And feel free to invite Satya too, of course.”

Hanzo looks up, blinking a few times. “Oh. Thank you,” he says, tilting his head forward just a touch. “I will pass that along.”

“Sounds good,” Jesse says with a nod, still striving for casual. He tries to put the thought out of his mind, focusing instead on the pleasant little buzz at the thought that Hanzo’s finally accepted an invitation. It’s strong enough to distract him from his studies for the rest of the night, and a fair portion of his classes the next day. 

Lena puts up with him for half of their lab before she plants an elbow in his side. “Planning on participating here at any point or what?” 

“Come again?” Jesse asks, looking up from the lab manual page he’s trying to read for the third time. “Oh, sorry.” He adds the readings she’s laid out across their table into their report. 

“Something on your mind?” she asks, voice dripping with suggestion. Jesse looks up to glare at her and she winks.

“Like I didn’t notice you redoin’ that last one twice,” he shoots back with a grin.

Lena laughs, loud and bright. It’s enough to draw the disapproving attention of their TA and they do their best to appear busy until her scrutiny wanders to another table. 

“Look, can you blame me? I’m so excited I can barely see straight,” Lena says. She drapes the back of one hand across her forehead and sighs, lovesick and dramatic. “I swear this lab is never going to be over.”

“Patience is a virtue,” Jesse says, aiming for a wise tone, and Lena snorts. Jesse shrugs. “Or so I’ve heard, anyway.”

“That one I’ll have to take your word on,” Lena says. She reaches over his arm to fill out the last few measurements. Jesse gives her a playful jab, pretending to fight her for control of the report, and she squawks loud enough to bring the TA all the way over to them. They scramble to straighten and look appropriately engaged.

“Problems?” the TA asks, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else in the world.

Jesse wilts a little under her scowl but Lena says, “Nope, not a one!” and gives her a cheerful salute. The TA somehow looks even more displeased and Jesse does his best to smother his chuckles, wondering if it’s possible to lose a grade for insubordination. But the TA just huffs and walks away. 

Jesse makes the mistake of meeting Lena’s eyes and the both of them start snickering, muffling the sounds in each other’s shoulders. 

They finally finish the project and Lena gives Jesse a cheery farewell before she’s off like a shot, so fast he can’t be sure she didn’t teleport out of the room. Jesse grins to himself and hands in the report, giving the TA his most deferential hat tip as he goes. He doesn’t think it improved matters, going by her glare, but he hardly cares now. The sweet freedom of the weekend is calling his name.

He ambles back to his room, dumping his bag with abandon and settling in to wait for Hanzo. But he gets most of the way through an old telenova episode before he starts to question himself. They hadn’t discussed the details of the party, aside from general things like time and place. Maybe Hanzo’s not coming back here first?

Jesse checks his phone and sure enough, the party should already be underway. He knew he’d meet the girls there, but maybe that includes Hanzo.

Jesse swallows, kicking himself. And Satya. Of course Hanzo would head over with her instead. He should have thought of that.

He lumbers to his feet and jams his hat back on, pocketing his phone. No sense making a mountain out of a mole hill, and he won’t be that late. He might get an earful from Fareeha, but he’s pretty sure that just means she cares.

But just as he lays a hand on the handle, the door bursts open and almost knocks him back a step. Jesse looks up, startled, to find Hanzo on the threshold. He wobbles a little as if trying to find his balance and Jesse starts to reach out on impulse, halting himself before he grabs his arm. He leaves his hand hovering in case Hanzo wants to stabilize himself with it, trying to make it look like that was his intention all along.

But Hanzo straightens without assistance, though he does sound slightly out of breath. “My apologies,” he says in a rush, slipping by Jesse to throw his hefty messenger bag onto his chair. “I did not mean to make us late.”

“No worries,” Jesse says. He tries to tamp down on the bloom of elation that warms him from head to toe at Hanzo’s appearance, that he didn’t leave him behind after all. “Ain’t like you have to show up at these things on the dot, y’know?”

Hanzo hums, darting into the bathroom. Jesse hears the splash of the sink and the quick swishing sounds of a toothbrush, and Hanzo emerges shortly thereafter as he straightens his ponytail. “There. I am ready now.”

Jesse nods, holding the door open for him and gesturing him through it. He chews on his lip as they make their way down the hall and finds the nerve to broach the subject. “No Satya?”

“No,” Hanzo says, a small shake of his head sending his single free lock of hair whispering across his cheek. “She thanks you for the invitation, but she is otherwise occupied.” Jesse nods. But then a little smile draws up the corner of Hanzo’s mouth. “And by that, I mean she said she would rather die.”

Jesse laughs outright. “That’s fair, I guess.”

“Her thanks were genuine,” Hanzo adds and they exit the lobby into the cooler evening air. “But she says large gatherings like this are not to her liking.”

“I can respect that,” Jesse says with a nod. “My little sister’s much the same. She’ll do a crowd if she has to, but she’s much happier holed up in a corner taking somethin’ apart or lockin’ me outta one account or another. Says she likes computers way more’n actual people any day of the week.”

Hanzo chuckles, although his smile seems to dim. Jesse remembers the sad fate of his brother too late, clears his throat and casts around for a change of subject. But Hanzo surprises him and says, “When it came to being sociable, my brother was much the opposite. But regardless, younger siblings can often be a trial.” His voice sounds wistful, tinged with melancholy.

Jesse swallows down the instinctive sentiment that springs to mind as he thinks of his own, both Sombra and Genji. Something nebulous about not knowing what he’d do without them, wildly inappropriate in the face of Hanzo’s loss. Hanzo lets the moment pass and they arrive at the party’s doorstep before things can get any more awkward.

Distractions crash over them in waves as they enter, loud conversations rattling in Jesse’s ears and the rise and fall of music filling the spaces in between. The heat inside from so many bodies pressed close together is almost oppressive after the crispness of the night air. 

Jesse briefly worries whether they’ll be able to find the others—there are far more people in attendance than he expected—but then strong arms envelop him from behind and lift him off the ground in a bear hug. He can see Hanzo take a startled step backward, surprise written across his face, and bump into a giggling Mei as she comes up beside him. Jesse struggles with the thick arms that hold him, putting serious effort into it though it’s playful, and can’t budge the grip at all. “Zarya,” he growls and she laughs in his ear, deep and throaty.

“Oh, very well,” she says, dropping him to the floor with a soft thump. “Hello, Hanzo,” she says, gracing him with a wave. Hanzo returns the greeting with a nod, looking more than a little concerned he’ll be subject to the same treatment. Mei gives him a smile and attracts his attention instead.

“We’re glad you could make it!” she says, gesturing them to follow as she heads into the crowd. Jesse thinks she does a great job of not making it sound like they never expected him to show up in the first place, but Hanzo looks faintly embarrassed anyway. But Mei gives him a warm smile and draws him further in, letting Jesse and Zarya trail along in their wake. 

They rendezvous with Fareeha and Angela in the kitchen, the two of them standing so close together they appear fused at the hip, and share a few minutes of idle chatter as they each collect drinks and take scope of the scene. Jesse barely hears his phone chime over the din, juggling his cup as he yanks it out and spares it a glance.

> tracer! >> not gonna make it mate were busy  
>  tracer! >> have fun!!!

He grins to himself, sending back only a winking emoji as acknowledgement, and returns to the conversations around him.

Eventually the ebb and flow of the packed crowd threads between their small group and they drift apart, although Jesse notices Hanzo stays stubbornly near either himself or Mei and, by extension, Zarya for most of the evening. 

So it comes as a surprise when he realizes he’s lost track of Hanzo, and can see that he’s not with Mei either across the crowded living room. He checks his phone but no new messages are waiting, so he does a more complete scan of the room before ducking his head into the kitchen. Still no sign of him. 

He catches Zarya’s eye upon returning to the living room and tries to communicate his question using his eyebrows. She just shrugs with one shoulder, her other arm draped comfortably around Mei as she engages in animated conversion with the girl next to them. He frowns, but he’s pretty sure Zarya’s saying she doesn’t know where Hanzo went either instead of expressing incomprehension. 

A thought strikes him and Jesse heads upstairs. Sure enough, there’s a small window in the top landing and it’s cracked open. Just enough that it wouldn’t be noticeable, but Jesse’s looking for it. He pushes it up as quietly as he can and sticks his head out, inspecting both sides of the porch roof.

Hanzo sits on the far end, back propped against the siding of the second floor.

Jesse twists his shoulders and contorts himself to climb out the little window, getting onto the gentle slope of the shingles with a couple scuffs and one minor bruise. He takes a few careful steps towards Hanzo, one hand trailing along the second story wall for balance, and stops when he’s noticed. 

He tips his hat to Hanzo’s raised eyebrow and jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “I can go back in if you’d rather be alone.”

Hanzo shakes his head, waving a hand at the shingles next to him with an inviting gesture. “Not at all,” he says. “I was merely looking for a little quiet. There are a great many people here.” Then he makes a face, as if rolling his eyes at himself. “Although I do not know what else I expected to find.”

“First college party?” Jesse grins.

“Yes,” Hanzo says with a shrug. “It was a pursuit I had not yet allowed myself.”

“Ah,” Jesse nods, although he’d suspected as much. “Can get a little overwhelmin’, I feel you.”

But Hanzo hums and says, “Not too much. I am glad I came. I merely needed a moment to myself.”

Jesse nods, shifting to get comfortable and wincing when his boot slides. He settles more firmly against the siding behind his back. Then he takes a moment to appreciate the cooler air and the light wind that tugs at his hat and plays with the edges of his serape. The muffled thrum of countless conversations and the ever-present pulsing beat of music travels through the very bones of the house, making it almost feel like he’s perching on a living thing. But the rest of the suburban street is quiet and the trees that ring the yard filter out what outside noise there is like a curtain. 

It is rather soothing out here, after all.

Jesse doesn’t even realize they’ve sunk into a kind of pleasant silence until Hanzo side-eyes him. “You do not need to stay out here with me.”

“I’d like to,” Jesse says, the honesty slipping through his teeth before he catches himself. He does his best to make his shrug look careless and is pretty sure he fails. “That is, if you don’t mind me sittin’ out here too. I think I need a break myself. And Jamie just got here,” he goes on with a grin. “Think I saw him headin’ for the backyard. Last time that happened at a party, fireworks started goin’ off.”

But Hanzo chuckles. “Somehow,” he says, “I would expect more than simple fireworks from him.”

“And that’s why I’d rather stay out front while he’s out back,” Jesse says and winks.

“A wise choice,” Hanzo says, mouth turned up in a lovely smile. 

They sit side by side, balanced on the shingles, in a companionable kind of quiet. Jesse squints up at the stars, trying to pick out what few manage to pierce through the ambient city lights. Then he steals a glance out of the corner of his eye at Hanzo and has to admit he appreciates that view even more.

Hanzo has his head tipped back, ponytail mushed out of shape where it’s pressed against the siding. His eyes are closed and he breathes in a steady rhythm, maybe some kind of deliberate pattern. His sharp features are relaxed, dim streetlights dusting his high cheekbones with the faintest glow and setting a slight shimmer in his black hair. 

The sight of him sets a glow of his own in Jesse’s chest, coupled with a sudden sense of longing that sparks all the way to his fingertips. He tries to swallow it and returns his gaze to the night sky.

Eventually, the cool breeze threads its way inside his serape and whispers a chill across his neck. Jesse shivers. He didn’t think Hanzo was paying him any mind but he must notice, because he gathers himself and stands. Braces one hand on the siding and extends the other to Jesse.

“I am ready to return. Will you join me?” he asks. 

Jesse tries to ignore the hiccup in his heartbeat as he grasps Hanzo’s hand, hauling himself to his feet and taking care not to tip off the porch roof. They make their way back to the window and Jesse stops by it, tipping his hat with a little wave for Hanzo to go first. “After you,” he says and relishes the pleased smile it earns him. 

Hanzo hops through the window and Jesse follows. The return to the noise and heat of the party is almost shocking, but Jesse knows that private little moment between them will be the only thing on his mind for the rest of the night.

\--

Jesse shoulders the door to his room open and almost falls through it, making a beeline for the shower. He can feel dirt in every single pore and his hair is full of grass yet again. Sometimes he wonders if ultimate practice is more dangerous to him than the actual games themselves.

At the very least, Fareeha is probably out to get him. There's way more running involved in practice than can be healthy for anyone.

He luxuriates under the spray of hot water, letting it loosen up his muscles. He's about ready to fall asleep in the shower when a continuous banging starts up on the door to Jamie and Mako's suite. So he heaves a sigh, ducks his head under the soothing stream one last time, and relinquishes his monopoly on the bathroom. 

He dresses quickly and unlocks their door with a rap of his own knuckles and Jamie just about kicks it in. Jesse's mouth drops open a little at the sight. 

He's covered head to toe in soot and may still be on fire. Little wisps of smoke waft off his clothes and from his hair, and Jesse has no idea how the smoke alarm hasn't gone off yet. He's not sure he wants the answer to that.

"You alright?" he asks, mouth tugging upwards despite his efforts to look serious.

Jamie straightens his spine, showing off his impressive height for once, and tilts his nose up. He gives a faux-regal sniff and says, "Obviously, mate, no idea what you're even talkin' about." Then he winks and Jesse laughs, leaving him to clean up.

He meanders around the room for a little, debating with himself about what he should devote his afternoon to. He drifts back and forth between homework he still needs to complete and settling in with a movie on his laptop or something to relax. The morning had rushed by him in a blur, scrambling to get to practice on time in the first place, and he feels like he’s earned some downtime.

But then something catches his eye on Hanzo’s desk. Jesse frowns. It looks like a lunchbox, and seems glaringly out of place on his spartan desk. He remembers Hanzo told him at one point he had plans today, but no amount of searching his brain turns up what they are. He may not want intrusion from anyone if he’d been unwilling to announce them.

But Jesse would bet he’d want his lunch. So he shoots Hanzo a picture of the lunchbox.

> sent << did you forget something? 

He waits a few seconds but there is no immediate reply. So he shrugs to himself and goes to pull out his laptop. He’s a good twenty minutes into _Casablanca_ when his phone chimes.

> S.H. >> Yes. 

Jesse frowns at the contact name. He’s been meaning to change it ever since Hanzo entered it as impersonal initials, but it slips his mind again as a new message comes in.

> S.H. >> Thank you for informing me. If it is not too much trouble, please put it in the fridge. 

Jesse snorts, sparing a brief glance between Hanzo’s desk and their minifridge. How much effort does he think it takes to walk across the room? Jesse may be tired but he’s not that far gone. And their dorm room is not that big.

> sent << ok but what are you going to do? 

> S.H. >> I will make do. 

> sent << want me to bring it? 

Jesse waits but no answer is forthcoming. He makes a face, hoping he hasn’t overstepped any invisible bounds, and goes back to his movie. But then his phone does chime after all.

> S.H. >> I do not wish to inconvenience you. 

Jesse squints. He’s getting the sense that ‘making do’ might mean Hanzo will go without lunch at all. He closes his laptop and grabs a serape, slinging the lunchbox strap over his shoulder as he claps on his hat.

> sent << no trouble at all, i can bring it easy peasy  
>  sent << where are you? 

Jesse gets all the way downstairs and ends up loitering on the sidewalk as he waits for a direction. He settles on a bench, hat tilted back and feet kicked out, to enjoy the fresh air and touch of sun while he waits.

Students of all kinds wander by in various states of fluster, some looking as tired as Jesse feels and some scurrying by in a state of panic recognizable as looming deadlines. And if Jesse strains his ears, he can just make out the hint of a fiddle on the breeze. It’s probably the guy that wanders around campus looking like he just returned from the wilderness, trail wear and all, and pours out meandering little melodies to suit himself. Jesse’s pretty sure he’s a professor of business or English or something, but he’s not in the mood to contemplate the mystery now. 

He’s starting to wonder if Hanzo changed his mind and he won’t get an answer at all when his phone finally signals a new message.

> S.H. >> The IM field.  
>  S.H. >> Thank you.
> 
> sent << sure thing

He heads over, not quite sure what he expects to find. He didn’t know Hanzo to be involved in any sports—not sure how he has time, with the sheer number of classes he seems to be taking and hours he works—but he wouldn’t be surprised. Hanzo is in the best shape he’s ever witnessed on another human being, barring maybe Gabe back in his Army days. But it begs the question: what sport?

Jesse shrugs to himself, working out a kink in one shoulder from an unexpected collision with Lena this morning, and keeps walking. He’ll see soon enough.

But what he finds on the field defies even the wildest of his idle fantasies. An array of big, bright targets stretches out across the manicured grass and people stand at all distances with bows of every shape and size in their hands. Jesse stops in his tracks, blinking hard. 

An archery meet. 

He stands at the entrance for an embarrassing stretch, gaping as he watches arrow after arrow fly down the field and sink into the painted bullseyes. He recovers himself after no few other spectators jostle his shoulder with pointed looks as they come and go, and Jesse hurries to get himself out of the main thoroughfare. He climbs into the bleachers and picks a spot with a great vantage point, setting the lunchbox on the bench beside him with care. He gets his phone in hand but pauses, starts to scan the field first. Hanzo may not be able to answer if he’s—

Sure enough, Jesse spots him. And his mouth promptly goes dry.

Hanzo stands around midfield, spine straight and feet planted in a solid stance. His attention is focused on his target, arrow already against his bow at full draw. Jesse is aware in a sort of layman’s way that archery can take an immense amount of power. But Hanzo looks like he’s exerting no effort at all. The muscles in his arms and shoulders are bunched and defined, on display even through the material of his sleeves, and Jesse has to remind himself to breathe.

Hanzo releases the arrow. It nails the center of his target.

Jesse is glad he’s sitting down because he feels physically weak.

He plants his elbows on his knees to hold him up and watches with a sense of awe as Hanzo makes a few more shots. He has no idea how any of this is scored, but to him each one looks perfect. 

Hanzo disengages once he’s finished and leaves the field, but Jesse loses him in the crowd of bystanders and other competitors milling around the sidelines. So Jesse sends him a text to let him know he’s arrived and settles in to wait. 

He expects a text response, but what he gets is Hanzo himself. 

Jesse just about jumps out of his skin when he appears at his elbow. “Holy shit,” he says, one hand clutching the serape over his chest as he lets out a noisy exhale. “Didn’t even hear you comin’, you damn ninja.”

Hanzo takes a seat beside him, looking just a little smug. “I did not mean to startle you,” he says though it’s clear he’s not at all sorry. Jesse starts to hand over the lunchbox but pretends to hesitate, making a show of reconsidering, and Hanzo snorts. 

“Thank you,” he says with great dignity when Jesse relinquishes the box. He holds it loosely, staring down at it as a faint pinkish tinge starts to stain his cheeks. “I did not mean to interrupt your day but I appreciate you taking the time for me.” Jesse wonders if he imagined the slight warble to his tone on the last few words, the quick little swallow right after he’d spoken.

Not that he’s fixated on watching Hanzo or anything.

“It’s nothin’, I told you,” Jesse says. He starts to reach out to clap Hanzo’s shoulder and turns it into an easy wave at the last second. “The only thing I need to do today is homework.” He pauses to make a face and Hanzo’s mouth quirks into a tiny smile. “And I can tell you right now, that’s the last thing I intend on doin’.”

“Ah,” Hanzo says, looking a little relieved as he gives one deep nod. “Well, your efforts are appreciated nonetheless.” He gets to his feet, a tiny frown crossing his face when Jesse makes no similar move to rise. Jesse raises an eyebrow and Hanzo gestures at the field. “But surely you have something more entertaining than this to delay your studies, do you not?”

Jesse bites his lip, remembering all at once Hanzo’s propensity to play his cards close to his chest, and hold much of his life private. Maybe having Jesse in the stands, or anyone he didn’t invite himself, makes him uncomfortable. 

“Did you want me to go?” he asks, cringing at the hint of pleading in his tone. 

But Hanzo blinks at him. “No,” he says slowly. “I did not think you would actually want to stay.”

“Oh,” Jesse says. He shrugs, almost as off-balance as he’d felt at their first meeting. “Um. I would like to. If you don’t mind?”

Hanzo’s face does a complicated thing Jesse can’t decipher but he shakes his head, expression settling into something like bafflement. “If it pleases you,” he says, the sweep of his hand as he indicates Jesse’s bench in invitation graceful however awkward the rest of his stance looks. “I must return,” he continues with a glance back to the field, “but, ah. Again. Thank you.”

“Sure, my pleasure,” Jesse says and means it more than Hanzo probably knows. He remembers at the last second as Hanzo is most of the way down the steps to call out, “Good luck!”

“I do not need luck,” Hanzo shoots back over his shoulder with the most self-confident and heart-stopping smirk Jesse’s ever seen. He’s glad to still be sitting down because he may well otherwise swoon. He grins back and tips his hat. Hanzo’s expression blossoms into a full smile, reaching his eyes, and disappears into the crowd. 

Jesse has to remind himself to breathe. 

He stays for the entire meet, watching intently even though he has no idea what the exact events are or how the scoring works. But it’s fascinating, all the different styles and types of shots on display across the field. And it doesn’t hurt that Hanzo stands out, both in scores earned and in his bearing alone. 

The other competitors present a range of skills, from the very green college amateurs to those who look practiced and like they’ve worked hard on their form. But Hanzo…

He looks like he was born with a bow in hand. His stances look natural and his bearing is almost regal as he sends arrow after arrow into the centers of his targets. He is clearly the master of this field.

Or maybe Jesse’s just too far gone for his own good. 

He tries not to think about that as he watches Hanzo step up for his next shot. And he even lets himself savor the leap in his heartbeat when Hanzo pauses, looks to the stands, and meets his eyes. The tiny little smile Hanzo gives him is just about the most beautiful thing Jesse’s ever seen. 

That, or the look of satisfaction on his face at the perfect bullseye he gets when he then releases his arrow.

Jesse’s in deep. And he can’t bring himself to care.

\--

Hanzo takes care to keep his preparations silent, stuffing his bag full of his books and his remaining homework in the hopes the morning’s shift will be slow. He tightens the laces on his combat boots, making sure they will offer sufficient support, before he stands with barely a whisper. He collects his phone and moves for the dorm’s door, pausing before he opens it and stealing a glance over his shoulder.

The softly snoring lump in Jesse’s loft doesn’t stir. 

Hanzo watches him for a moment, though he’d deny it if ever caught out. Rays of sunlight are just beginning to peek through the window, and they fall across Jesse’s mop of brown hair and set the ends glowing almost golden. What Hanzo can see of his face is relaxed, peaceful. Dare he admit it, unfairly handsome.

Hanzo makes himself open the door, applying the same care to make sure it’s soundless. He closes it with equal caution, paying great attention to pulling up on the handle enough to avoid the squeak of one hinge. 

Then he turns around and promptly trips over the unexpected obstacle at his feet with an enormous crash. 

Hanzo rights himself lightning quick, staring down at the cardboard box with nothing short of outrage. But, tilting his head, he sees it’s addressed to Jesse. Hanzo scowls at it but hefts it into his arms, taking it inside the room with much less consideration for quiet after that ruckus. 

Sure enough, Jesse is stirring. He’s halfway upright and it’s clear he’s still mostly asleep. Hanzo thinks about apologizing but bites his tongue instead. He deposits the box on Jesse’s desk and turns to leave again. 

“You okay?” Jesse murmurs, eyes open just enough to track his progress. 

Hanzo tries not to dwell on the warmth of his gaze, even though it’s half-lidded. “Fine,” he says. He stops with one hand on the door and gestures at the box. “A delivery for you. Go back to sleep.” 

Instead, Jesse becomes more alert and shuffles forward to peer over the edge of his bed. A smile spreads across his face and he hops down to inspect the package. Hanzo, despite his better judgment and the dwindling time before the start of his shift, indulges his curiosity and waits.

“This was at the door?” Jesse says as he rips off tape. There’s a slight furrow to his brow when he glances up at Hanzo.

“Yes,” Hanzo says, leaving out any mention of the subsequent acrobatics the delivery caused. It is strange, though. Usually packages are left at the front desk, and there is nothing more than a note on the door that pickup is necessary. “What is the occasion?” he asks just as Jesse cracks open the flaps and starts laughing.

Hanzo raises an eyebrow and Jesse picks up a handful of what seems like confetti, tossing it gently at him. He does his best to maintain his unimpressed expression as the colorful paper pieces flutter down around him. It’s more of a challenge than it should be in the face of Jesse’s—dare he say fond?—smile.

Hanzo stanchly ignores the flutter in his heart.

“S’my birthday today,” Jesse says. He puffs out his chest a little, looking proud. “Eighteen, y’know.” Then he reaches back into the box and lifts out a few tupperware containers that appear packed with baked goods. “Looks like Gabe wasn’t in the mood to wait ‘til tonight.”

“Well, eighteen is special,” Hanzo says. He tries to put thoughts of his own eighteenth birthday back in January out of his head; a far more dull and torturous affair than Jesse’s will likely be. He refocuses on the present when Jesse holds out one of the containers to him, but Hanzo raises one hand to decline. “Thank you, but it is too early. And they are for your birthday.”

“Don’t mean I can’t share,” Jesse snorts. There’s a twinkle in his eye. “Besides, I’ve never seen you pass up good sugar yet, no matter the time of day. Especially Gabe’s.” 

Hanzo hums, noncommittal. He checks his phone. He needs to get to work, and yet he loiters by the door. 

Jesse goes back to unpacking the box. He chuckles a little to himself, the sound low and rumbly and sending a shiver down Hanzo’s spine. “Can’t believe him, trekking all the way up here instead of leaving it at the desk. Guess he wanted it to be special.”

“Yes,” Hanzo says, feeling the bruise starting to form on his shin. He absently rubs the one on his elbow. “Quite the surprise.”

Jesse straightens and gives him a considering look. Hanzo stills his hand and exercises every ounce of control to keep from fidgeting. “Is that what that noise was?” Jesse asks and Hanzo maintains direct eye contact, willing his face not to heat.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he says and Jesse grins, sharp and bright. Hanzo spins on his heel and opens the door but pauses again in the doorframe. “Happy birthday,” he says. Jesse’s smile broadens, the warmth of it sinking its hooks into Hanzo’s chest, and he leaves before either of them can get another word out.

The shop is close and he makes it just as his shift starts by covering the distance at a jog. Even so, the startled look on Mei’s face is something he’d hoped to avoid as he clocks in.

“Apologies for my lateness,” he says brusquely, dumping his bag in the back and pulling on his apron. 

“Oh, it’s fine,” Mei says, cheerful despite her yawn. “I was just starting to wonder if you were sick or something, taking a day off for once. Uh, I-I mean,” she stammers, cheeks flushing, as what she’d said seems to sink in, “you’d deserve it, if you did.”

“No,” Hanzo says, biting back the sharp retort that rises on his tongue. He likes Mei, after all. She’s one of the few people he can tolerate without effort, her disposition sunny and her friendliness unforced. Which might normally annoy him, but Mei is also very good at knowing when not to push. Far better than the rest of their coworkers, who are each obnoxious from the moment they open their mouths. And even in the times she does speak without thinking, she’s quick to offer an apology and drop the subject. Something Genji had never mastered in their youth—

Hanzo takes a deep breath. Forces his thoughts to the present. 

“I was merely delayed this morning,” he continues. He debates sharing when she shoots him a look of bald curiosity, but there’s no time. The first of the morning rush is lining up at the door and they hurry through prep in the last of the quiet the shop is likely to see today.

They work through the never ending line with as much efficiency as they can. Faces blur together as the usual variety of students, professors, and the odd straggler shuffle through, some testing the limits of his patience far more than others. 

The one that does stand out is Jesse, but he comes in the middle of the rush and there’s no time for anything beyond an exchange of pleasantries. It also means he doesn’t get the chance to protest when Hanzo refuses to charge him. Jesse concedes with a tip of his hat and a smile and saves Hanzo at least a little embarrassment.

The shop subsides into a more manageable volume by mid-morning and Hanzo is relieved when the sign that his shift is nearing the end makes its appearance. It’s become Satya’s habit to arrive after her early class and perch on a stool at the end of the counter, working through assorted assignments for the next hour or so before they walk to their shared class together. She avoids the shop during any of the rush times but seems relaxed enough in the more subdued atmosphere in what he’s starting to think of as her spot. 

Mei gives Satya a cheerful greeting and hands over her usual cup of tea before packing up for the end of her shift as her replacement comes in. Satya nods back and settles in, books spread around her within minutes as if she’s been there all morning. 

Hanzo finishes taking a few orders that wander up to the register and finally has the breathing room to join her. Satya pulls out the last assignment they need to finish for their class and turns it sideways so they can both read it with the counter between them. They’re able to complete a fair portion of it undisturbed until the bell over the door rings. Hanzo looks up and his stomach sinks.

It’s Lena. 

He nods to Satya and moves back to the register, making sure his face is arranged with pure professionalism. Lena walks up to the counter, smile bright as usual, and greets him with a wave. “Morning, love,” she chirps, the picture of friendliness. 

“Hello,” he returns, weathering her cheer. “What will you have?”

“Oh, you know what I like,” she says, with a wink of all things. “Surprise me?”

Hanzo bites back a sigh and rings up something brimming with an unlawful amount of sugar and caffeine. He accepts her payment and nods her down the counter, following on his side to rejoin Satya and resume their work as Mei’s replacement constructs the liquid abomination. She thanks him with a breezy salute upon receiving it, about to hop off to terrorize some other poor souls, when a thought strikes Hanzo. 

He almost lets her walk away, but scolds himself for the impulse. The right thing to do is make sure she is aware.

“Lena,” he says before she can get more than three steps away. She spins around on one heel, not spilling even a drop, and raises her eyebrows in polite inquiry. There’s already a bit of whipped cream smudged on her lip. “Did you know today is Jesse’s birthday?”

Her mouth drops open and her eyes bug out. “I did not!” she says, rushing back to the counter in a blink. Hanzo can see Satya’s slight flinch out of the corner of his eye. Lena seems preoccupied by the announcement, eyes dancing as she says, “Ooh, I’ll have to ambush him with this one. Thanks, mate!” She starts to bolt away but pulls up short again, turning back around with a sly grin. Hanzo feels his face heat at the look. “Mind if I ask, how’d you find out?”

“He received a package this morning,” Hanzo says, hoping against hope he doesn’t say anything she finds objectionable. “When I went to leave for work, I—” he just stops himself from giving the full and embarrassing details, clearing his throat and finishing lamely, “found it. He explained the occasion.”

Lena laughs. “I owe you one for this!” Then she’s off like a shot. 

Satya stares after her, looking as though she’s not sure she believes that experience was real. “Is she always like that?” Hanzo shrugs. Satya frowns at him and asks, “That was the girl from Halloween, was it not?”

“Lena,” Hanzo says with a nod, caging the deep sigh that wants to escape his chest. “She is Jesse’s girlfriend.”

Satya spins her stool back to face him, brows drawn together. Hanzo wants to kick himself. He usually has far better control over his tone. “Jesse, your roommate,” she clarifies.

“Yes,” he says, dreading what must be coming next. He regrets all at once having confided his secret to her, even if it made him feel better at the time. 

“The roommate that you are,” she wrinkles her nose, ”pining over?”

“I am not pining,” Hanzo snaps. 

“Oh, certainly not,” Satya says with zero effort at sincerity. “My mistake.”

Hanzo looks to the ceiling, counting to himself in a token attempt at patience. “One I am sure you will not make again,” he says, with a hint of warning in his tone. Satya looks unfazed.

“Hanzo,” she says, leaning in. “You care for him, do you not? It would be foolish to continue torturing yourself over this. May I remind you that you still need to live with him for the remaining year?”

“And yet,” Hanzo grinds out between his teeth, “he is already involved.”

That seems to bring Satya up short and she glances back at the door, in the direction Lena had disappeared. “Ah, yes.” She bites her lip and looks determined to be supportive. “Should we sabotage their relationship?”

“No!” Hanzo’s shout is loud enough that his partner down the counter jumps and it draws the attention of the couple at the nearest table. They give him dirty looks before bending their heads back to their studies and Hanzo closes his eyes for a moment. 

Then he gives Satya a sharp look and she lifts her shoulders in a small shrug. “It was merely a suggestion,” she says but she looks relieved. 

“Thank you,” he says, inclining his head. “But that will not be necessary.”

She nods and drops the subject. The remainder of his shift dwindles away and Satya starts packing up while he finishes his last duties. Hanzo clocks out and grabs his bag, but the display shelf to one side of the register catches his eye as he starts to head out. He stops in front of it and frowns, long enough for Satya to rejoin him from where she’d been waiting by the door. 

“Something wrong?” she asks. Her voice is even but Hanzo notices one of her fingers taps the side of her phone in a rhythmic pattern as she checks it. He knows it will bother her to be late to class so he waves her ahead.

“Not at all,” he says. “I had forgotten something I meant to do. I will catch up.” She nods and moves away, and Hanzo returns his attention to the display.

The shelf is filled with equipment for sale, boxes of tiny teapots and French presses arranged in artsy pyramids with other odds and ends scattered throughout. Hanzo eyes the smaller of the presses, a pretty glass-and-copper thing that is well made and has excellent reviews. It’s not too expensive on its own, and his employee discount brings the price down from his ‘forgoing a legitimate need‘ category and into ‘acceptable odd expenses’. He can afford it.

Hanzo picks up the box but hesitates as he turns to the register, a new thought striking him. Would it be appropriate? 

Jesse has been nothing but kind to him, which is a torture all on its own. But would such a gift, for an occasion he is not advertising, overstep any bounds? He didn’t seem to mind sharing the information when Hanzo’d risked life and limb to leave the room this morning, but even Lena hadn’t known. Would Jesse prefer his birthday to go unacknowledged?

Hanzo shakes his head. He’s overthinking again. 

Besides, Jesse seemed delighted with the package he already received. And Hanzo thinks to the electric kettle sitting on a shelf in their room, provided freely and with no strings attached. Jesse’s had ample opportunity to acquire coffee making equipment of any sort since bringing it in and nothing like that has appeared. For all his excuses, the kettle must have been a true gesture of friendship for Hanzo.

And so Hanzo will return the favor. 

He grabs a small bag of their in house ground coffee as well and makes the purchases. Then, for the second time that day, sprints across campus to enter the classroom just as his professor begins drawing across the board. He slides into the chair Satya’s saving for him and accepts her stern glance with good grace. 

Hanzo tries to focus on the lecture, but his mind keeps wandering back to the little box stuffed into his messenger bag. He keeps wondering, should he wrap it somehow? Include some kind of message or well wishes? 

He shakes off the thought. He will deliver his gift as is, and that is that. And yet, the fresh page of his notebook remains empty as his mind wanders yet again. 

A concept forms in his mind and Hanzo pinches the bridge of his nose, frustrated with his lack of focus. He has far better self-control than this, it’s beyond embarrassing. But he swallows the feeling and gives in, reaching for a pad of post-it notes. He feels like every eye in the classroom is on him, judging him for his terrible behavior. So he takes care to block angles of view of the post-it with his elbow and his still clean notebook and begins to draw. 

He does his best to picture Jesse’s hat in his mind’s eye as he sketches, but it’s no substitute for a real reference. The first few notes end up in little balls that he crumples as quietly as he can. He gives up and googles some images on his phone, settling on one already similar to what he has in mind. Then he’s able to get somewhere. He sketches out a cake shaped like a cowboy hat and adds a few candles around its brim as a finishing touch.

He thinks he has the post-it well hidden as he finishes the drawing, but the pointed sigh to his left pierces him with a little dread. He looks up, expecting some kind of disapproval, but what he finds written on Satya’s face surprises him. She looks a little sad, and maybe even sympathetic. Hanzo feels his cheeks heat up but Satya just slides her finished sheets of notes a little closer to him. 

Hanzo bites down on the surge of gratefulness and begins copying them with rapid pen strokes.

He makes a detour on the way to his next class, still at just shy of a run, to stop by the dorm room. It’s empty and Hanzo couldn’t be more relieved. He has no desire to make a scene or even have a witness. His dignity is on thin ice as it is, even if he’s the only judge. He takes just enough time to set the French press and the packet of ground coffee on Jesse’s desk in the perfect arrangement, topping the box with his post-it note sketch, and admires his handiwork. 

Then, before embarrassment and self-doubt take over his judgement, he sprints back out the door.

The rest of his classes pass in a blur despite his weak efforts to concentrate. Questions plague him all the way up to the door to his room. Will Jesse like it? Will he think it’s cheesy or inappropriate? He resolves just to pretend nothing happened and hopes Jesse does the same. He takes a breath to center himself and pushes the door open. 

That hope was in vain. 

Jesse stands at his desk, holding the post-it note up to inspect it with a soft, lopsided little grin. The French press is out of the box and cupped in his other hand. And he looks unfairly attractive, even more so than usual. His hair is styled, hatless, and he’s decked out in his nice jacket instead of his usual cloak. Hanzo swallows hard and debates fleeing but Jesse must hear the door and looks up. And then it gets worse. Jesse’s expression morphs into a full smile, radiating warmth like Hanzo’s own personal sun, and the fondness infused in it almost brings Hanzo to his knees.

Hanzo is certain that every ounce of blood in his body rushes straight to his face. In a moment of weakness, he allows himself to pretend that he’s the only person in the world to receive such a smile. But the moment passes and he slams his iron control back down, desperate to bury the rush of longing along with it. 

He says nothing, ducking his head and darting over to his side of the room. To his relief, Jesse makes no comment. But Hanzo can’t help watching out of the corner of his eye as Jesse moves over to the shelf, placing the press and the coffee next to the kettle with a loving little pat. 

Hanzo swallows hard. The impulse to say something he’s sure he’ll regret is suddenly quite strong. But a pounding starts up on the door before he can get his mouth open. And as annoyed as he is by the assault on his eardrums, he breathes a sigh of relief.

Jesse snorts and strolls over to open to door. Hanzo does his best not to track his languid movements across the room, still under the effect of that smile. 

But then the door opens and two girls tumble in, surrounding Jesse at once with hugs and laughter, and Hanzo withdraws to his desk. He starts gathering up the materials he needs for his evening group meeting, collecting a couple granola bars for dinner, and does his best to be unobtrusive as Lena and the other newcomer fill the room with chatter.

“Well, don’t you clean up nice after all,” Lena says, poking Jesse in the bicep. Hanzo makes a conscious effort to relax the clench of his jaw.

“Lena, darling,” the other girl says, “you’re not one to talk. You’re still wearing crocs.”

“They’re the nice ones, though!” Lena protests and Jesse laughs, a deep thing that rumbles through Hanzo’s bones. But then Jesse steps towards him, looping his arm through one of the newcomer’s and drawing her over. She reaches up to brush her long red hair away from where it caught between their shoulders and follows, and Hanzo tries to pretend he hasn’t been watching out of the corner of his eye.

“Hanzo,” Jesse says and Hanzo steels himself before turning to face them, as is polite. The girl greets him with a freckled smile and he gives her a bow. But then his attention wavers, caught by Lena’s besotted smile as she stands behind the pair and gazes at them. Hanzo shakes himself when words tickle his ear and he realizes Jesse is still talking. “Don’t think you two’ve met yet. This here is Emily, Lena’s girlfriend.”

“A pleasure,” Hanzo says before his brain catches up with the words. 

Time crawls to a stop. It can’t be true, can it? He must have misheard. But then it dawns on him, Lena’s adoring gaze is indeed focused on Emily and not Jesse, after all. And Emily looks over her shoulder long enough to send her a wink and an air kiss before turning back to stick a hand out to Hanzo. 

“It’s lovely to meet you,” she says and her voice has the same lilting accent to it that Lena’s does. Hanzo grasps her hand on autopilot and lets her shake it, letting Jesse’s raised eyebrows go without response by the power of his shock alone.

Lena hops over to join them when Jesse goes to collect his keys and gives Hanzo a wink. “Gotta thank you again for the tip off,” she says. “He’d never have told us otherwise, I wager.”

“Oh, so it was you, huh?” Jesse laughs, giving Hanzo a mock-frown. Hanzo blinks at him, still adrift. “Ah, well. I just didn’t want to make a big deal of it, is all.”

Lena sticks her tongue out at Jesse and Emily rolls her eyes. “Gabe was going to whether you were or not,” she says with a grin. “It’s your eighteenth! He’d already invited me.”

“What?” Lena squawks.

“You were next,” Emily says and pats her shoulder, adding a peck on Lena’s cheek when she still feigns outrage. “He just likes me better.”

“You bloody ghouls,” Lena says but she lets her smile take over again. 

“Either way,” Jesse says with a nudge to Lena’s back, “the end result is y’all’re invited and we’re goin’ to dinner.” He turns his devastating smile, which has somehow increased in potency in the last five minutes, onto Hanzo. “You comin’?”

Hanzo stares at him. “What?”

“Dinner,” Emily says as Lena tries to bury a snicker in her hand. “For Jesse’s birthday. Would you like to come?”

“Oh,” Hanzo says. Then, when the fact that an actual answer is required pierces the fog in his brain, says, “Uh. Thank you. No.” He watches Jesse’s face fall and feels like he just kicked a whole litter of puppies. He lifts his bag with a jerk almost strong enough to tear the strap. “I have a…an obligation.”

Emily smoothly steps in and says, “Another time then,” and she becomes his favorite person at once. 

“Well, all right then. See you later?” Jesse asks and Hanzo manages a jerky nod. Jesse gives him a parting smile, one that saps the remaining strength from Hanzo’s legs, and starts herding the girls out the door. “Happy birthday to you too, Em, by the way,” he says and Emily gives him a bright smile. “How was it?”

“Wonderful,” she says with a dreamy sigh just as Hanzo loses sight of her.

“Yeah,” Lena says, more directed a Jesse, with a little fist bump. “You came through with that rec, you know.”

“Wasn’t from me, really,” Jesse says as he disappears after them into the hall. “That was all Ge—” The click of the door shutting cuts him off and silence descends on the room once more.

Hanzo sinks against his desk and stares after them. The fog is rapidly evaporating and his brain is making up for it by spinning in circles, looking back over his every interaction with Jesse with fresh eyes. Lena’s not his girlfriend. 

_Lena is not his girlfriend._

The revelation is overwhelming. So much so that it takes a few minutes for the shrill shriek of his alarm to penetrate his ears. He frowns at his phone and discovers, with a whole new rush of panic, that his group meeting started ten minutes ago. 

And he’s out the door at a run yet again.

The meeting is already rowdy and arguing at full volume when he arrives, and Hanzo’s lateness earns him no shortage of grumbling. Their professor assigned the teams, and it’s just his luck that he ended up on one with a myriad of strong and conflicting personalities. He’s self-aware enough to know that he’s one of them, but there are only so many times he can listen to Cameron’s absolute idiocy before he has to step in. Does Cameron ever listen in their lectures? Read the assignments? Absorb one single fact? Hanzo doubts it.

And so, like the many before it, the meeting runs long and produces little noticeable progress. Hanzo stomps away in a foul mood and ignores the rumbling in his stomach, setting course for the dorm with the full intention of falling face first into bed and staying there for the rest of time. 

He’d almost forgotten about Jesse, but the events of the evening rush to the forefront of his mind when he gets the door open. Jesse’s slumped in one of the bean bag chairs he’d brought in yesterday, long legs folded up and his laptop resting across them. A tupperware container sits on the floor by his knee and he’s got a mug cradled in his hands. Tinny sounds of laughter and conversation echo from the speaker and Jesse grins at whatever he’s watching.

The rush of fondness that sweeps over Hanzo almost takes his breath away. But he manages to force himself into motion just as Jesse looks up and taps at his keyboard, the sounds of someone shouting cutting off abruptly, and fixes his attention on Hanzo. He must not like what he sees because he makes a sympathetic grimace.

“How’d it go?” he asks anyway.

Hanzo growls low in his throat. “If that absolute imbecile ruins this project and makes us fail, I will not be responsible for my actions.” He pictures Cameron’s face and imagines punching it, dropping into his chair with a huff.

“You get ‘em,” Jesse says with an indulgent nod. Hanzo grimaces to himself, reluctant to say any more though he wouldn’t mind decompressing. But he doesn’t want his mood to ruin Jesse’s birthday. 

He looks away as Jesse takes a sip, all at once acutely aware that he’s interrupting something. Jesse looks totally relaxed, like he’s still half absorbed in whatever he’s watching, and Hanzo starts to rise from his chair before he can second guess himself. 

When Jesse raises his eyebrows, Hanzo furrows his brow and points to the laptop. “Would you like me to go? I do not wish to intrude if you would rather have quiet.”

“Nah,” Jesse says, tilting over to snag the second beanbag and drawing it next to him. He pats it in invitation. “How about you join me instead? You look like you could use some relaxin’.”

Hanzo hesitates. He’s seen snatches of the soap opera Jesse watches on the regular, and has no idea how he finds it so engaging. But then again, Hanzo doesn’t speak Spanish and hasn’t seen any subtitles so perhaps it loses something without the dialogue. 

Jesse must interpret his pause correctly because he snorts and turns the laptop around. The screen is paused on a wide shot of some kind of bar, the patrons filling it with glamour despite it being in black and white. Hanzo frowns, not recognizing the scene. “What is that?” 

Jesse makes a good show of outraged surprise. “You never seen _Casablanca_?” Hanzo shakes his head. “Then sit your ass down, this is a classic.”

Hanzo pretends to deliberate but then sinks down into the offered beanbag. He picks up a cookie with no complaint when Jesse nudges the container toward him and says, “Here I thought you would only watch cowboy movies.”

Jesse snorts. “I like those too, sure. But they ain’t the only classics worth watchin’, that’s for sure. Now hush, I’m startin’ this over.”

Hanzo takes a bite of his cookie to hide his smile and relaxes into the beanbag. Jesse plays the movie from the beginning and slides his laptop over so they can both see it, leaning closer to get the angle just right. Hanzo drinks in the warmth of his presence and proximity and knows this is a memory he will cherish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We want to say a huge thank you to everyone who's been liking and commenting, you support literally means the world to us! We're super sorry for being so quiet and not answering anything much lately, it's been a rough few months. But we have been reading and cherishing every single one. And to all our new readers: welcome to this insanity! We hope you slept while getting through the monster this is becoming. And to everyone that has asked questions that we missed in our fog state, please feel free to reask or shoot us a note on tumblr. 
> 
> Speaking of: Believe it or not, Rochnariel has resurrected [her tumblr!](https://rochnariel.tumblr.com/) Granted, for being a support main she's a terrible Mercy--but she managed this one res. She's epically bad at social media though so we'll see how long she lasts. 
> 
> And now, back to your regularly scheduled notes:
> 
> It was brought to our attention by an anon on tumblr that ferrets are actually illegal to own in California! Like...what?? That was the one thing we didn't think to research, because 48 out of 50 states are totally cool with it. Like, we're one step away from a family law degree at this point and we didn't imagine we needed to look up ferret pet ownership laws. Go figure. Nari even found a California ferret rescue site when she was looking into care/temperament/behavior/etc. Guess they aren't giving them out as pets. =(
> 
> We love how no one seems to trust Damian. He’s not the devil incarnate, we swear.
> 
> LeanMeanSaltineMachine: Oh we know. =) Our dog spent days exhausted after his first training session. Mental stimulation works wonders.
> 
> CorsoTheWolf: Antonio is an OC. Completely and totally OC, based off of a couple of people Rochnariel knows. And we don’t know much about concept art Mercy, makes it a little hard to shoehorn him in (despite the fact El would probably die for him at this point). But we don’t have plans (yet) on bringing him in or other comic characters. We have a big enough cast to keep straight.
> 
> LittleMissSpitfire: Welcome! Passing out is fine. We honestly endorse sleep around here, we promise. We’ve never stayed up all night reading fic when we have to work… Oh, who are we kidding. As for Peacekeeper, he's a greyhound mix. There’s some lab in him and probably a few other breeds. He’s a rescue, so they don’t know all of his breed specifics.


	31. peaks and valleys

Jack rolls back over on the narrow station bunk, jamming his foot against the frame as he tries to get comfortable. He exhales a soft sigh and pulls himself upright instead. He tries to be quiet, conscious of the rest Zenyatta at least appears to be getting on the next bunk over. The night has been back to back calls all the way through and Jack’s exhausted. But he hasn’t been able to fall asleep in the peace they’ve had since the radio went quiet an hour ago despite his best efforts. 

He knows he shouldn’t be nervous. He’s handled one home visit already, and that one a borderline disaster. He’s certain this one should go much smoother. The new apartment is much nicer, well stocked, and as close as it could possibly be to his support system. In all likelihood, there is nothing that should worry Jack about it. But the thought of Everett waiting at his door the minute he gets off shift is making his stomach tangle up in knots.

Jack slides off his bunk and creeps from the room as soundlessly as he can. He looks back once he reaches the doorframe and is pleased to see Zenyatta is still out. In Jack’s experience, the slightest noise is usually enough to rouse him. He must be just as tired as Jack is. 

Jack doesn't bother turning on the lights as he makes his way to the coffee pot. The dim overhead night lights illuminate everything well enough for him to navigate. He flicks the machine on and drags the relic that serves as his computer out of his bag. He may as well check his email if he’s not going to sleep, even if he’s sure it’ll be in vain. He’d emailed his own internet axe murderer late last night, a request for more advice borne of nothing more than jitters, but he doubts he’ll get an answer before what any normal person would consider a decent hour. 

The coffee finishes brewing while his computer is still starting up. Jack stands, stretches enough to get his spine to crack, and pours himself a big mug. Then he drums his fingers against the laptop casing as he waits on his computer.

Maybe he should let Hana set his email up to come to his phone. It would be way faster than this whole ritual, that’s for sure. He pulls his phone out and unlocks it, squinting at the screen. How hard can it be to figure this out?

Jack pokes around, trying to find anything that looks like it could remotely contain an email function. The only things on the main screen are the three little icons that Hana left for him: apps for calls, texts, and the bracelets. No email in any of those. He keeps tapping at the screen and manages to pull up some kind of giant menu, overflowing with colorful and nonsensical icons that make zero sense to Jack. He tosses the phone back onto the table, wary of breaking it, and turns to frown at his computer instead.

But his phone buzzes as it hits the table and Jack jumps. He snatches it back up, hoping he didn't manage to do irreparable damage to it anyway. He breathes a sigh of relief when the phone unlocks without a problem and shows a waiting message.

> Lloyd, D. >> good morning. did you have a good night? 

Jack blinks at the text and glances at the time. It’s a little after five, much later than he’d thought. And not too early for Damian to be up with his jogging habit. Jack fiddles with the phone a little and bites his lip, unsure how to respond.

His computer finishes booting while he’s losing his staring contest with a text message. Jack sets the phone face down on the table with a little more force than he’d intended, grateful for the distraction. He opens his email and, to his great surprise, sees a waiting reply. It’s timestamped a little over an hour ago. Does this guy sleep either? Jack shakes his head, reminding himself the blogger is probably in a different time zone or something, and opens it.

> From: elsegador@flordelamuerte.com  
>  To: soldier76@gmail.com  
>  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Advice needed
> 
> Finally a sensible question from you. 
> 
> Home visits are just to establish that the place the kid is living is safe and up to code. So long as this new apartment isn't a shit hole, you should be fine. They might ask you some other questions or point out minor things they want you to update, but really it's all about safe living environment. Just make sure it's mostly clean and has enough food to sustain life. Unless your new place is somehow worse than your old one, nothing from this visit will be cause for them to take your kid.
> 
> The fact that you’re worried puts you heads above some others, believe me. Sounds like you're going to be just fine. Take a deep breath and deal. You’re all right. 

Jack stares at the screen. The lack of sarcasm and borderline hostility in this reply is jarring. He was expecting a smack upside the head, not actual advice with a tiny tap upside the head at the end. Huh.

It leaves him feeling weirdly better. Jack takes the advice to heart and, not giving it too much thought, types out a quick reply.

> From: soldier76@gmail.com  
>  To: elsegador@flordelamuerte.com  
>  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Advice needed
> 
> Thanks. That was actually helpful. I've been freaking out since the first home visit.
> 
> I'll let you know how it goes. 

Hitting send, Jack takes a steadying breath and then stares down his phone. The screen is dark, probably timing out as he typed, but he knows the message thread is lurking behind it. He's not sure what to say. Is he supposed to tell Damian the truth? That it was a horrible night of back to back calls and all he wants is to sleep for a week, but he can't because he has a terrifying home visit waiting for him after work? Or does this call for a socially polite answer? Does he tell him it was fine? Jack’s pretty certain that's a normal person response despite whatever the actual situation is. It’s what he habitually says, even if Ana calls bullshit on him most of the time. Other people do that too, right?

Jack groans and drops his head in his hands. He sometimes wishes he were better at talking to people.

Then he steels himself and pokes the screen, popping the message thread with Damian's cheerful question back to full brightness. Jack frowns at the time. He's been waffling over a response for almost forty minutes. Is that too long to reply now? Are there rules about that when you’re dating? It sometimes takes him longer to reply when he's on a call though, so maybe if there are they won’t apply to him. He’ll take all the breaks he can get.

He’s hovering his finger over the ‘f’ key, trying to make himself type out the word fine, when the station tones go off. Jack groans and shoves his phone into a pocket without sending anything, message the furthest thing from his mind in an instant. 

He can’t believe he’s going to be late for a home visit yet again. 

Zenyatta emerges from the bunk room, looking fresh and serene despite what was likely the usual rude awakening. Jack nods to him and wonders yet again how he does it. In fact, sometimes he starts to think Zenyatta might not be human after all. The man is not grumpy enough to be a medic by far. 

Either way, Jack won’t complain. He’s grateful for Zenyatta’s instant alertness as he waves Jack away from the driver’s seat. Jack leaves him to it, climbing into the passenger side and pulling up their call info.

MVA. Unknown injuries. Jack bites his lip. This could be done in five minutes or it could take forever.

He yanks his phone back out, skipping over the message thread with Damian in favor of Reinhardt's.

> sent << might be late. can you get hana up and moving? 

Jack's phone buzzes less than a minute later as Zenyatta pulls out onto the street.

> Wilhelm, R. >> Of course! I shall get her to school and will be waiting to let Ms. Everett in, if necessary. 

Jack scowls at the clock on the dashboard. Quarter after six. He hopes this a case of someone calling preemptively.

Zenyatta glances over. “Something wrong, Jack?”

The question makes Jack realize he's been drumming his fingers on the door and fiddling with his phone with his other hand. He stills each of the motions, reminded yet again he forgot about his nail polish when the still blue hue to his fingers catches his eye, and shoves his phone back in his pocket. He performs a quick inspection of his hands before answering. The polish is starting to wear down and chip in places, as he should have expected with his job. He really should take it off. Or at least touch it up.

“Second home visit,” Jack explains. “For the new apartment. It’s this morning.”

Zenyatta makes a soft ‘ah’ noise. “I was not aware you found a new place to live.”

Huh. Jack furrows his brow, thinking back. He didn't say anything? Odd. “Yeah. Friend of mine was converting his third floor into a rental. He all but forced me to take it.” Jack shrugs, trying to play nonchalant. But Reinhardt really did save his ass with this.

“Sometimes we must accept that our friends are determined to help us. At gunpoint, if necessary,” Zenyatta says, making the final turn onto the road listed on the call info.

Jack rolls his eyes in lieu of agreement. He turns his attention to the street as they begin searching for the accident, but there’s nothing where the report indicates it should be. Jack radios in to dispatch as Zenyatta slowly circles around to see if they missed anything.

They pass a fire truck a few times, also circling the area in search of the alleged accident. Jack sees Bastion behind the wheel, his probie—Or-something, right? Orisa?—sitting beside him up front. Jack returns their wave as dispatch clears them to cancel. 

Jack checks the clock and breathes a little easier, relief washing over him. Ten to seven. Their relief should be waiting at the station when they get back. And at this point, he thinks he can still make it home with time to clean up before the eight o'clock visit. Jack would swear their social worker made it that early just to screw with him. Or to test him, after the debacle that was the first home visit.

Zenyatta pushes the speed on the way back. Jack doesn’t say anything about it, but he’s grateful. They pull into the bay and Jack all but throws his keys, pager, and radio at the next shift. He’s able to make it home in record time and kicks open the door to an empty apartment. Jack spares a moment to scrutinize the place. It seems somehow even cleaner than when he left it, despite having devoted all of yesterday to unpacking the remaining boxes scattered around the living area and straightening up. Jack decides not to question it this time. 

He takes a lightning fast shower, stuffing his uniform into the hamper in the bathroom and throwing on the clothes he left in there for just this eventuality. He stands in the living room and takes a few precious seconds to breathe before the expected knock on the door comes.

Jack pastes a smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look manic. “Ms. Everett,” he greets their social worker, pulling the door wide enough to let her in.

“Mr. Morrison,” she replies. Jack starts to offer a hesitant handshake but Everett keeps both of hers folded in front of her. Jack aborts and drops his. Everett gives him a chilly look and says, “Glad to see you could make it on time.”

Jack swallows down some choice words. “I got off mostly on time today,” he says instead. Then he can’t help himself and adds, not bothering to filter the growl from his voice, “Would have liked to have done this later, but you said eight so here we are.”

Everett ignores the comment. She strides past Jack down the tiny entry hall into the main part of the apartment. “Where is Hana?”

“Reinhardt’s dropping her off at school.” Jack follows after her, briefly wishing he’d had time to make coffee or even just grab a glass of water. Something to hold in his hands, so he wouldn’t have to keep them steady by sheer force of will. But Everett doesn’t pay him any further mind, giving just a hum in reply. She looks around the living room and drifts into the kitchen area, opening up the fridge and cabinets to poke through their contents.

Jack is just now getting used to seeing real food in his kitchen, even if a fair portion of it is still freezer meals courtesy of Reinhardt or easy prep meal kits that he tries and fails to make. The fridge is decently stocked with actual food, even if there are a few take out containers in there as well.

Jack watches Everett’s progress, trying to keep from shifting his weight foot to foot or indulge in any other nervous gestures, and repeats the blogger’s email in his head. It's okay. He can do this. He's got everything set so they can't take Hana away over this. The apartment is in too good of condition for that. Reinhardt does great work.

When Everett finishes her inspection of the main areas, he shows her to the bathroom and then Hana’s room. The mirror in the bathroom is still a little damp from his shower, but it's otherwise spotless. Hana's room is unusually clean.

Everett’s stony expression makes her reactions difficult to gauge, but Jack’s starting to feel pretty confident as they check off each space. Right up until she turns to the last room: his bedroom. 

Jack’s heart stops. He’d completely forgotten Everett would want to see his room too. The entire point of finding a new apartment was so they’d both have separate spaces, but he’s been so focused on Hana that he hadn’t thought of his own. His stuff is still in cardboard boxes piled around the room, not a piece of furniture in sight. It doesn’t help that he’s been on the night shift all week, catching snatches of sleep at the station or still on the couch. At this point, he’s almost forgotten that he has a bedroom again. His brain feels like a fog, but even so he cannot believe he didn’t think of this. Will Everett accept that for an explanation? He can tell this is not going to look good and his stomach sinks like a stone. 

She at least doesn’t leave him hanging in suspense. Everett marches right into the room and Jack scrambles after her, words crowding and tangling on his tongue. He’ll just tell her he hasn't had time yet. He's been sleeping on the couch still…where there is no evidence of him being, he realizes with even more panic, as he glances at it and sees his usual pillow and blanket missing. He shakes his head. It’s just because he worked last night, obviously, and picked it up before he left. He can salvage this.

Jack follows Everett into the room, ready to start babbling, and skids to a halt. He just about bites his tongue as his jaw snaps shut. 

The room is picture perfect. Bed, end tables, dresser. Hell, there are even lamps on both ends tables. Jack squints at the set up, recognizing the blanket draped across the end of the bed as the one he's been using on the couch. The rest of it looks vaguely familiar. But it sure as hell isn't his.

Everett inspects the room as he gapes, moving through it with her usual efficiency. Before Jack can process the scene before him, she straightens up and says, “Everything looks to be in order.” Jack does his best to master his expression and act like his room has always been like this by the time she turns around to face him. 

“So we're all set?” he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide their twitchiness.

Everett raises her chin a little, looking him square in the eye, and utters words he wasn’t sure he’d ever hear from her. “Yes, Mr. Morrison. Everything looks good with her placement.” She leads him back into the main room and Jack wonders if the visit really is over, just like that. Everett does head toward the door, but pauses enough to say, “We’ll be getting regular updates from Hana's school and psychologist. Nothing confidential, of course. And we'll be checking in on Hana periodically to make sure things are going well, but otherwise we are all set.”

A light, surreal feeling starts to bloom in his chest and Jack finds himself grinning. That all sounds almost too good to be true. He shows Everett out and turns to find Reinhardt standing at the doorway to the inner staircase, looking as close to sheepish as Jack has ever seen him.

The pieces snap together in his brain. “It's from one of your guest rooms, isn't it?” he asks, folding his arms and struggling to keep a straight face.

Reinhardt nods. “I thought it would look better if your room was complete as well. You can keep it, if you'd like. You do really need to stop sleeping on the couch.”

Jack looks down, weighing how simply tired he is with what Zenyatta’d said that morning. He swallows his pride. This will save him a shopping trip. And he really does not want to go shopping again. Ever. For anything. Not to mention the cost of a new bedframe and mattress. “Thank you.” Jack pauses. “Although I thought cardboard box end tables were coming into style.”

Reinhardt brightens at once with a chuckle. “Of course! I’m sorry to deprive you. And we can always get you a different mattress, if this one is not to your liking,” he says as he steps into the apartment. “It will be no problem to bring home in my truck.”

Jack waves him off. “I'm sure it's fine.” He's been sleeping on the couch for months now. A bed is going to feel wonderful, no matter what mattress is on it. And a new mattress requires shopping. No thank you.

Jack drops onto the couch, completely and totally exhausted. Reinhardt follows and sits in a chair opposite him that, now that Jack is trying to think through the haze of sleep deprivation, was not there yesterday either. Jack lets his head flop against the backrest and decides this is just his life now.

“Long night?” Reinhardt asks. Jack can tell he's trying to keep his volume low, which takes enormous effort from the man. He’s grateful. He rubs at his temples, trying to dispel the headache that’s settled in, and nods carefully. “But this went well, yes?” Reinhardt goes on. Jack can hear the note of anxiety in his voice. He cracks his eyes open just enough to see Reinhardt leaning forward, elbows on his knees and big hands clasped before him. Jack struggles to sit up a little straighter, not quite certain when he’d closed his eyes in the first place.

“Yeah,” Jack manages, pulling his glasses off and massaging his eyes. “Just regular updates from everyone to CPS now. But it sounds like that was the big hurdle. She gets to stay. For good…” Jack trails off, stunned, as that fact takes real root in his brain. It’s true, they’ve done it. They’ve actually done it. Hana gets to stay.

Jack can feel the grin break out across his face, his cheeks aching with the force of it. He’s sure it’s mirrored on Reinhardt’s, even if he can’t see him well enough to tell without his glasses. But even his terrible vision picks up on the movement as Reinhardt lunges to his feet and pulls Jack up into a crushing hug, laughter booming. It amplifies the pounding in Jack’s head but he couldn’t care less. He’s too happy.

Reinhardt releases him, turning his shoulders to face his completed bedroom, and gives him a gentle clap on the shoulder. “Get some sleep, my friend. And do not set an alarm. I'll get Hana from school today. We can go out tonight to celebrate!”

Jack puts his glasses back on and gives him a thumbs up. The thought of sleeping until dinner is too big of a draw for him to put up any sort of argument. Reinhardt grins at him and heads back down to his portion of the house, leaving the apartment in peaceful silence. Jack takes a deep breath, turning the idea of their success over in his mind, and feels something like relief as he sighs it out. 

He touches the bracelet on his wrist. The immediate response buzz warms him all the way through.

Jack detours to the bathroom to dig through the dirty laundry for his work pants. He searches multiple pockets before extracting his phone, feeling like he needs an alarm for a reasonable dinner time and not a minute sooner.

There’s a text waiting for him.

> Lloyd, D. >> hope everything is all right. 

Shit, he’d completely forgotten about his morning greeting. Jack bites his bottom lip and knows he’s on the edge of an anxiety rabbit hole if he lets himself think too hard about his response. But he doesn’t want to just ignore Damian. So he makes himself type out the first thing to come to his foggy mind while he wanders into his room.

> sent << fine now. sorry. was busy before. about to go to sleep for the day.

He hits send before he can agonize over the wording and drops face first onto the new bed in his room. He's out before he hits the comforter.

He’s woken by an annoying buzz going off next to his head somewhere. Jack reaches out a hand, desperate to make the intrusion go away so he can just go back to sleep. His hand collides with the source of the buzzing, and he vaguely recognizes it as his new phone.

He squints at the screen but he can’t read anything on it without his glasses. He swipes at what he hopes is the answer button. He puts the phone to his ear, hoping it’s right side up, and drops his head back down onto the comforter. 

“Hello?” Jack tries to say clearly. He’s not sure it works.

“Mr. Morrison?” He doesn’t recognize the voice on the other end of the phone.

“Yes?” Jack says anyway, still face first on the bed. 

“I’m sorry, sir, are you there? This is Dr. Etienam, Hana’s psychologist.” 

Jack’s eyes fly open. He struggles to sit up and clears this throat, trying to make his voice come out in an understandable way. “Yeah, sorry. I’m here.” He rubs at his eyes, but he can’t make out the time on the demon alarm clock. He starts pawing around the bed on the hunt for his glasses. “How can I help you?”

“I just wanted to talk to you about Hana for a minute. Before you ask, I told her this is something that I generally do,” Dr. Etienam explains. “She said she’s okay with it. Is now a good time? I can call back later.”

“No, no. It’s fine.” Jack finds his glasses and shoves them on, then wishes he hadn’t when he sees the time. He’s only been asleep for a few hours. He flops back on the bed, struggling to hang on to the phone.

“Okay,” Etienam says into his ear. “I just wanted to check. These updates are things I do regularly with my patient’s parents or guardians. Things you need to know, even if your child can’t tell you. But I always get their permission first. And I won’t tell you something that Hana asks me not too, unless I think it’s an emergency situation. Like in the case of suicide plans or active self-harm. We are not there with Hana.” 

Jack nods, a bit relieved. That all sounds reasonable to him. Then he realizes she can’t see him and opens his mouth, but she’s already speaking again.

“In the past few sessions we’ve had, Hana has expressed anger over her parent’s death and the situation that she is in. This isn’t unusual during the grieving process. I don’t find this worrisome at all, it’s all very normal. It’s just something that you should know and I thought we should discuss.”

“Okay,” Jack says weakly, struggling up off the bed. He needs to be more awake for this conversation.

He walks into the kitchen in search of stimulants while Dr. Etienam keeps talking. “She’s mostly angry about the old house and whoever sold it to them, right now. She’s not angry about living with you. A little upset that she has to, granted. But she’s told me several times that if she has to live somewhere that isn’t at home with her parents, she would want to live with you.”

Jack almost hadn’t noticed the tension building in his gut until it releases at her words. He breathes out with it, a soft sigh, and snags one of Hana’s cans of pop out of the fridge. “That’s good.” He’s not convinced he’s the best place for her; he’s a long way from okay and he can’t give her anything resembling a normal household. But he’s better than a stranger. And with Reinhardt’s help, he thinks they’re breaking even. Jack drinks half the can in one gulp, hoping the sugar hits his system soon. “So what do we do about the anger?”

Dr. Etienam hums. “I think it’s important that we give her a physical outlet for it. Like I said, it’s all part of the normal grieving process. Giving her something that can channel it might allow her to process it faster. We don’t want her to be stuck in this phase indefinitely. But she hasn’t mentioned anything about traditional sports or any other sort of physical hobby to me.”

Jack makes a face. “Yeah. I’ve taken her hiking a few times, and she seems to like that, but she doesn’t really show interest in clubs or teams at school.” He bites his lip, but he can’t come up with much. “I know she likes competitive video games,” he says. “I guess that’s not going to be the right kind of outlet though for this, huh?”

“It might help, actually,” Dr. Etienam says to his surprise. “It will channel aggression, but adding some kind of physical exercise would be good as well. She mentions that she likes getting to do things with you and…” Jack hears a papery rustle as she pauses. “I think his name is Reinhardt? She calls him hal-abeoji.”

Jack rubs his temples, the influx of sugar on a lack of sleep making him a bit light-headed. “Yeah, that’s Reinhardt. He’s helping me with all of this.”

“Good. Everyone needs a support system,” Dr. Etienam says bluntly. “If team sports or clubs aren’t an interest, is there something that you and Reinhardt can do with her?”

Jack thinks for a minute, remembering the quick play fight they had at Halloween, and the idea that’d sparked. Besides, it would be good for Hana to know how to defend herself. Just in case. “What about self-defense?” Jack asks. He wants to make sure he’s on the right track, and that learning how to fight won’t just make the anger worse for her.

“Oh, that would be a good outlet,” Dr. Etienam says, tone thoughtful. “Are you planning on classes?”

“Um,” Jack falters. “I could look for them, I guess. But, uh, I was special forces. Reinhardt was one of my instructors years and years ago. I was thinking we could teach her the basics.”

“Oh, that sounds great! Yes, I think she would enjoy it more coming from you two. And it will give her something else to bond with you over. She needs all the connections she can get.”

Jack squeezes his eyes shut. Then maybe classes or school sports would be better. He’s doing this all wrong and he knows it. He should be encouraging her to make friends, spend time with other kids. Instead he’s been okay with her only wanting to hang out with Efi and the group she plays her games with, people she doesn’t even see. He’s going to screw her up somehow.

“Mr. Morrison,” Dr. Etienam cuts into Jack’s inner monologue as if she senses his thoughts. “She’s doing fine. Not every kid wants to constantly be around other kids. Self-defense should help with the anger. She’s processing all of this just fine.”

“Okay,” Jack hears himself reply, even if he’s not sure he believes it.

“I’ll call again in a few weeks. And I’ll see you both Saturday.”

Jack can’t remember if he works this Saturday or not. But he agrees with a, “See you then,” anyway before hanging up.

He rinses out the pop can and leaves it to drain in the sink, walking back to his bedroom. His thoughts swirl with self-doubt, but maybe he can hit a mental snooze button. Try to push them, and the sugar from the pop, down and get some more sleep.

He sits on the bed and pulls of his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to ignore the headache that seems to have set in for the day.

Before Jack can even lay back down, he’s startled by a knock on the door. The outside door, not the inner one Reinhardt uses to come and go from the apartment. Jack sits still for a moment, seriously thinking about ignoring it. Whoever it is can come back later. He’s done dealing with things for the day.

But the knocking comes again, louder this time, and Jack sighs. He heaves himself to his feet and shuffles all the way to the door, throwing it open with a glare for the person on the other side. It’s a courier in a uniform, pressed and professional. That’s not what he expected. Jack stands there blinking stupidly at him, wondering how the man even managed to find him. Has he even filled out a change of address form yet? He’s far too tired to remember at this point.

“Jack Morrison?” the man asks.

Jack gathers his wits enough to say, “Yeah.”

“Can I see some ID?”

Jack sighs and tries to remember where he left his wallet. He leaves the man on the tiny porch and lets the door swing shut, dragging himself back to the bathroom. After yet another laundry hamper excavation, he finds the damn thing in one of the many pockets in his work pants. He half hopes the man has just gone away, but a return to the door proves that wish fruitless. Jack shoves his license at the courier and leans against the doorframe, exhaustion weighing down his very bones.

“Thank you,” the man says. He’s far too cheerful for Jack’s mood. “Sign here please.” He hands Jack a clipboard and a pen. 

Jack stares at the form, trying to force his brain to digest the tiny print covering it. He finds the right signature line and scrawls his name, dumping the clipboard back into the courier’s arms. 

“Have a good day,” the man says and hands Jack an obnoxiously thick envelope. He then just about skips back down the stairs. Jack glares at his retreating back, equal parts in awe and jealous of his energy, before slamming the door and locking it. He resolves on the spot to not open the damn thing again for a week. At least. 

He looks down at the envelope and his heart skips a beat. It’s from the family court in San Francisco. Didn’t Ms. Everett just say the home visit was fine and that the placement was a done deal?

Jack is suddenly very alert. He hurries to the kitchen and slices the envelope open with a knife, hands steady by virtue of adrenaline alone, and empties out the sheaf of papers contained within. He rifles through it, legal jargon crammed across every inch of each page. Jack wouldn’t be able to wrap his mind around the details even well-rested, but he gets enough to understand the point.

It’s a petition, filed by Kim Soo-Jung. Yuna’s older sister, a woman that Jack knows condescended to speak to Yuna and her family maybe once a year. Who hates Jack’s guts, a feeling that’s very much mutual. 

She’s moving to have Jack removed as Hana’s guardian, on grounds of him being unfit. 

Jack slides to the floor, slumped against the cabinets. The papers crinkle in his white-knuckled grip and he tries to breathe, to remind his lungs to work. The only thing tempering the rising tide of panic in his mind right now is anger.

Soo-Jung wouldn’t even return to the damn country when her sister died, leaving Hana with nowhere to go but LA, and now she wants to waltz in and take her away? Yuna and Soo-Jung never got along well and weren’t close, and had twelve years in age between them. They were drastically different people, so much that Yuna would joke they weren’t even related at all. And Jack’s pretty sure Hana shares her mother’s opinion. It’s why Yuna named him as the person to take care of Hana in the first place. Soo-Jung has never allowed herself to be a part of their lives. 

And now she wants to drag Hana even further away from everything she knows and take her back to the land of corn, he’s sure of it. Like it’s her right. 

But there’s a cold little voice that starts whispering in the back of Jack’s mind, that maybe she’s got a point. Soo-Jung can offer the thing Jack can’t: a family. Maybe Hana would be better off in a full house, with someone that can keep part of her culture alive. Hell, even just with a woman that will understand shit like painting nails better than he does. 

Jack stares hard at the pages, the fine print blurring a little until his scrubs at his eyes. Maybe Hana would rather live with her now that Soo-Jung is back in the country and she has options.

Jack forces himself to take a deep breath and set the papers down on the floor with care. He runs his hands through his hair. He needs to ask Hana what she wants. If she does choose him, he’ll go to war with this woman and fight tooth and nail to keep Hana. But if not? Jack swallows hard. It will be so much harder, but he’ll have to walk away. He and Reinhardt both. If that’s what Hana wants. If that’s what’s best for her. 

The panic is starting to win out, now.

A crash from the inner door interrupts his little episode, banging open so hard it bounces off the wall. Hana plows through, hair flying, and ducks her head in Jack’s open bedroom door. She pivots from the empty room right away and Jack watches her wild eyes land on him. He can hear Reinhardt lumbering up the stairs with heavy steps as Hana darts to join him on the kitchen floor, looking frazzled. 

She thrusts an identical envelope into his lap, raggedly torn open. “Jack,” she says, breathless and pale. “What is this?” Jack takes it, hoping she doesn’t notice the slight tremor in his fingers, and pulls out the same pages. Addressed to her this time, in formal court-speak. But the message is the same. 

Jack opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. 

Hana looks away and Jack follows the motion, meeting Reinhardt’s worried gaze as he emerges from the stairwell. Reinhardt comes toward the kitchen but doesn’t intrude, hovering a few steps away from the pile they make on the floor. 

Hana says, “A guy came up to me after school in the parking lot. He had me show ID and sign something, and gave me that.” She fixes the envelope with a startling death glare. “Jack, please tell me that doesn’t say what I think it does. Please.” 

Jack has to swallow again, trying to force down the lump that feels like it’s closing his throat off. “Hana—”

“You’re not unfit,” she says, voice turning ragged. “That’s bullshit. You’re not! She can’t take me away from you, that’s not fair!”

“Hana,” Jack says again, stronger this time. Hana’s mouth closes with a snap. “She’s petitioning, that’s all. We could contest, uh. I think.” Jack casts a floundering look at Reinhardt but he looks just as lost, and only gives a faint shrug. But he pulls out his phone and starts tapping at it, face settling into a determined expression, so Jack turns back to Hana. “But the point it that I think your aunt would like you to come live with her. If you,” he has to stop and clear his throat, “if that’s something you would want.”

“No,” Hana says, sharp and immediate. “No way, not a chance.” She shoots to her feet, starts to pace in the small space around Jack. Three short steps towards the wall, an about face that makes his army side proud, three steps back. Her hands are balled into tight fists. “I mean, are you kidding me?” Her voice rises, anger coloring her tone. “I am not living in Indiana with some woman I saw maybe twice a year, who spent the whole time lecturing Eomma about how she was raising me. Eommawa Appa said I stay with you. End of story.” 

She sounds so certain, so resolute. It helps unwind the coiling panic in Jack’s gut, ease some of the tension that paralyzes him. But he has to ask, “Are you sure?”

Hana stops pacing. She fixes him with a long look. Then she glances over at Reinhardt, who looks to be elbow deep in research already. Then around the open living area, and takes a deep breath. “Yes,” she says, finality in each word. “I’m sure. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Jack finds it suddenly a little easier to breathe. “Okay,” he says, stacking Hana’s papers on top of his. He gets to his feet and sets the neat pile on the counter. He’s still bone tired, his brain a buzzing fog. But Hana’s conviction puts a foundation beneath his feet. He wraps Hana up in his arms, feeling hers go around his ribs in a tight squeeze, and says into her hair, “Then we fight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, there’s the original plot of this thing. Only took us 31 chapters to get to the first twist, whoops. Also sorry for killing so many of you with chapter 30's mchanzo? Blame El, that's all her fault. She’s the mchanzo source in this fic.
> 
> Brief translation: Eommawa Appa - Mom and Dad.
> 
> Also @Blizzard: you couldn't pick literally any other name for your new villain? Any?? On the record: our Antonio has no relation to the Talon leader. But the Gérard cameo is amazing and perfectly timed, very glad to see him.
> 
> On that note, we’ll be back probably after the Archives event. It’s one of our favorites and the new version looks even better!! And besides, have you seen that Hanzo skin? We need it. And Soldier 24, no matter what it ends up looking like.
> 
> silverhorse123: your comment came in at the right moment for a greatly needed laugh. Zuko and his honor, love it!
> 
> Kiyuomi. Welcome! It has turned slice of life-y. Which we didn’t’ intend at first, but have embraced.


	32. an unexpected Frenchman, clandestine searches

Jack slides a few fingers up under his glasses to rub at his eyes, trying to dispel the ache building behind them. He stretches his shoulders out and tries to work out the kink in his back. It does little to help, so he picks up his coffee mug for a long and fortifying drink. But it’s got nothing but dregs left in it. 

Jack closes his eyes. Figures.

He pushes his computer away and stands, taking the opportunity for a bigger stretch. It feels good to be out of the hard chair. He should probably be taking more breaks, but he’s focused. He wants to get this done, find the perfect candidate. He gets the feeling the lawyer he chooses will make or break their chances at winning this case.

He’s devoted most of his waking hours since yesterday to his quest. It’s been more challenging than he hoped. His budget, no matter how hard he tries to stretch it, eliminates the higher tiers. But it still leaves a significant number of profiles and reviews for Jack to scour. And those are less helpful than he’d hoped. He’s having trouble parsing them out for honesty and real experience for a case like his. It may just be his paranoia, but it seems like a fair number make themselves out to be better then they really are.

Jack needs somebody he can trust. It might be too much to hope he can find that person over the internet. He knows he lucked out with his blogger. This might be a step too far. 

He picks up his phone and his empty mug, drifting towards the kitchen with the vague idea to make a new pot of coffee. He sends a longing glance towards his bedroom but doesn’t even entertain the thought of a nap. There will come a day, he promises himself, where he can stop substituting caffeine for sleep. But it is not today.

Jack opens his text thread with Ana from yesterday, hoping a new idea will spring to mind if he rereads the conversation. He knows she has a formal custody arrangement with Fareeha’s father and had hoped she’d have some advice. But they’d been very civil about it and had it ready before Fareeha’d even been born, and neither have challenged it since. Not quite what he needs. 

Jack makes a face and stuffs his phone back into a pocket. He washes up in front of the coffee maker and stares at it. The steps required to make more coffee suddenly seem like a monumental effort, even with the help of the post it note still clinging to the control pad. Jack dumps his mug in the sink and slumps back into his chair instead.

In the absence of a lawyer, Jack’s tried to read through ever single page of the notice he and Hana were given. It hasn’t been very helpful. This is far from his area of expertise and he doesn’t understand much of the fancy language peppered throughout. He’s also turned to the internet, desperately trying to research as much as he can. So far he’s gathered enough to grasp this case will be going to court at some point, but he can’t find a timeline or a sense of what to expect. 

He’s not even sure he understands the grounds Soo-Jung is using to claim that he’s unfit as a guardian.

Jack clicks back over to his email and refreshes it, hoping to see a new message alert. He’d broken down and asked his blogger for advice late last night, even though it might be a reach. For all Jack knows, this guys may never have dealt with custody battles or anything court related in his life. Still, he’s asked him about pretty much every detail in his guardianship journey so far, why not this too? Might as well keep up the tradition. 

Sure enough, there’s a waiting message. Jack’s heart climbs into his throat and he tries to sternly keep his hopes from rising with it. 

> From: elsegador@flordelamuerte.com  
>  To: soldier76@gmail.com  
>  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Advice needed
> 
> Nothing like getting dropped into the fire. Sounds like the home visit went okay, at least.
> 
> Custody issues initiated by a third party are completely different than not following the court’s instructions. I’m not sure what district you’re in so this is going to be broad, but here’s a bit of what you can expect.
> 
> You got the notice. So the first thing you need to do is find a good family lawyer that can help you navigate all of this. You could do it without the lawyer, but you’re a fucking idiot if you do. The legal system is a mess if you’re not used to navigating it daily. You’re on your own there, unless you already know a lawyer or you happen to magically live in the Los Angeles area. I know shit about lawyers in the rest of the country.
> 
> Next step from the court is to assign your kid a guardian ad litem. This is the person that investigates the whole damn situation. They’re an advocate for the kid and are _supposed_ to be an unbiased third party that’s looking out for kid’s best interest. I have yet to meet a single person that is 100% unbiased in any situation. But that’s their jobs. Most of them do okay.
> 
> From there, the whole time line is pretty much up to the guardian ad litem and how complicated the whole situation is. I’ve seen them drag on for months and months. Sometimes for good reason. Sometimes… Well, some people are assholes with agendas.
> 
> The silver lining here is that the kid stays with you for the duration, unless the guardian ad litem turns up something that makes you immediately unfit and a danger. You’re not secretly a serial killer, are you? If you are, keep covering your tracks. They haven’t caught on just yet.
> 
> Get the lawyer and go from there. They’ll help you parse out the grounds of the petition and what you need to refute.

Jack’s mouth drops open as he reads. He sits back and tries to digest the email, more concise and info-packed than his two days worth of internet searches. Finally, an idea of what to expect and what will be expected of him. Now, if he could only find the damn lawyer—

Jack scrambles to scroll back up the body of the email. Didn’t it say LA? He rereads the opening paragraphs and hopes starts to take root in his gut. Pay dirt! The blogger did say Los Angeles.

> From: soldier76@gmail.com  
>  To: elsegador@flordelamuerte.com  
>  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Advice needed
> 
> I’m in the LA area. Can you please send me some suggestions on lawyers? I’m running on internet reviews here.

Jack hits send with no small amount of relief, clicking back to the meager list of lawyer options he’s been trying to compile so far. He tries to convince himself to keep looking into the obscure bios and flowery reviews instead of just waiting for the blogger, but a knock on the inner apartment door distracts him.

“It’s open,” he says, having to clear his throat halfway through the words. Maybe he really does need more coffee.

Ana sticks her head in. “Ah, Jack. Good afternoon.”

“Hey,” he says with a nod as she comes in. She goes straight to his pantry and takes out the sugar container. Jack raises an eyebrow. Since when has he had a sugar container?

“Would you mind terribly if we borrowed some of this? Reinhardt’s running low,” she says, already pouring a small pile into a little bowl.

“Help yourself,” Jack chuckles. “You planning to give it back or something?”

Ana tsks and replaces the container. “How about you join us instead? The coffee is freshly brewed,” she says, voice lilting with the very tempting offer. Jack frowns at his computer but Ana doesn’t let him struggle with the choice for long. She tugs at the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Come along, you need a break. It will do you good.”

“Oh, fine,” Jack huffs, shutting the laptop lid and getting back to his feet. Ana waits for him at the door, waving him down the staircase first, and he doesn’t argue. He’s still turning his blogger’s new email over in his mind as he descends, so he misses the extra person sitting at Reinhardt’s tall table until the man perks up.

“Why, Jack! What a pleasant surprise,” Gérard Lacroix crows and Jack stops in his tracks. His first instinct is to turn right back around but Ana nudges his spine, blocking his escape path. He shoots a glare over his shoulder.

“You didn’t tell me you had company,” he hisses at her and she rolls her remaining eye. 

“Do you want coffee or not?” she asks, sweet as can be. 

Jack bites his lip, seriously considering if it’s worth it, as Reinhardt says, “Oh, yes! Did I not mention it? He has taken the new apartment upstairs. It’s so nice to have a friend living there. Better than I ever expected!”

Gérard hums. “You didn’t tell me it was finished, old man. How did it turn out?”

“Wunderbar, of course,” Reinhardt says, puffing out his chest with no small amount of pride. “Jack helped me with the renovation, so I thought it fair to offer it to him first. What,” he nudges Gérard with one oversized elbow, “don’t tell me you’re looking for a new place, eh? Tired of your penthouse?”

“Never,” Gérard laughs. He affects a haughty sniff as Ana strong-arms Jack into a chair at the table. “You’re lucky to catch me out here in the slums at all.”

Jack sends Ana a baleful look as they laugh but she just deposits a steaming mug in front of him and takes the empty seat between him and Reinhardt. “Oh?” she says, raising a cup of what looks like her usual tea to her lips. “So you prefer the congestion and the smog, then?”

“Much better than all this nature, by far,” Gérard says, tossing his head towards the mountains rising within view of Reinhardt’s kitchen window. “Nothing ever happens out here. It’s far more exciting downtown.”

“Maybe some of us like it that way,” Jack grumbles into his admittedly delicious coffee. 

“Ugh, if you must,” Gérard says with a theatrical sigh. He fixes Jack with a shrewd look and asks, “So, how are you, Jack? You look exhausted.”

Ana snorts and Jack scowls at them each in turn. “Yeah, it’s a look I’m going for. Glad you noticed.”

“To be fair,” Reinhardt says, “there have been a great many changes in our lives recently. Quite a lot going on.”

“Oh?” Gérard tilts his head and Jack tries to decide how much he feels like sharing today. The truth is, not much. “You’ve moved, of course. Are you still doing that, what was it, medic thing? With the terrible hours and terrible pay and all that nonsense?”

“Yes,” Jack says, a little clipped.

Gérard huffs. “I don’t know why you don’t take your talents farther. At least give medical school a chance, try to go places.”

“Didn’t occur to me,” Jack says dryly. “How’s your practice?” 

He knows if he can get Gérard talking about himself it should take care of all further inquiries in Jack’s direction. In fact, he might not need to say another word all afternoon if Gérard really gets going. And sure enough, Gérard launches into one tale after another with dramatic flair, detailing his exploits and the glamorous cases he’s won since Jack last saw him. 

Jack is just starting to relax, content to let Gérard talk himself hoarse while he enjoys his coffee, when Ana ruins it all. She waits for Gérard to finish a particularly engaging court case to hum as he takes a breath. Then, once his attention is fixed on her instead of starting another story, she puts on what would be a convincing display of innocence if Jack didn’t know her and says, “Actually, that reminds me. Jack, you’re in need of some legal advice yourself, aren’t you?”

“Jack is?” Gérard asks, sitting up with an appraising look. There’s a twinkle in his eye as he says, “Then it’s too bad you can’t afford me,” and buffs his nails on his blazer lapel.

Jack turns a very unimpressed look on Ana. She only smiles back. Then she gets to her feet and goes to fiddle with the coffee maker, leaving him high and dry. 

Reinhardt laughs and claps Gérard on the shoulder, almost sending him to the floor. That makes Jack feel a little better. “It is not your kind of advice we need, my friend,” he says. 

Gérard looks mildly disappointed as he rights himself. “And here I thought he’d finally snapped and assaulted an annoying member of the public,” he sniffs and takes a dainty sip. “I must confess, it seems a matter of time.”

Jack considers assaulting a member of the table right here and now but Ana chooses that moment to lean in between them, on the pretense of refilling Jack’s mug. He huffs and she pats him on the head. “Don’t prove him right, dear,” she says as she moves to top up first Gérard’s and then Reinhardt’s cups and resumes her seat. Jack folds his arms and tries his best not to pout like a five year old.

“I know better than to do it in public,” he grumbles. “And I know enough that they’d never be able to pin it on me anyway.”

Gérard laughs. “Then there is hope for you yet.” 

“Thanks,” Jack says, pouring every ounce of sarcasm he can muster into his tone. Gérard winks at him. Jack bites his tongue and does his best to drown himself in his coffee. But he’s getting the sense this meeting was orchestrated. How very convenient that he be drawn downstairs into a supposed spur of the moment catch up session between old friends. It’s a habit of Ana’s to forcibly socialize him once or twice a year, so it’s not unexpected. But the timing—right after receiving a declaration of war coded in legal jargon–is very suspect.

Gérard is a resource. And Ana wants him to use it. 

Jack doesn’t like the idea of owing Gérard anything, but he takes a breath and thinks of Hana. And forces his mouth open in the very poignant pause in the conversation. It’s not like he has any other leads at the moment.

“Gérard,” he says, eyes fixed on his mug to avoid the very expectant gaze he can feel burning into him. “I, uhm.” He swallows and tries to sort out exactly how to ask. “You guys talk to each other, right? I mean like, uh, between lawyers and law types. Right?”

He makes the mistake of looking up. Gérard’s well groomed eyebrows are nearing his slicked back hair. “Oui? How else to you think we would get anything done?”

“Yeah, okay,” Jack growls and looks to the other two for support. Ana wears an amused smile and Reinhardt gives him an encouraging nod, complete with fortifying you-can-do-it fist pump. Jack swallows and barrels on. “I meant between disciplines. I don’t need criminal law, I need a family lawyer. So…do you know any?”

Gérard’s expression does something very interesting, turning almost constipated. He takes another long sip. “You mean, of course, aside from my ex-wife?” It doesn’t sound much like a question. 

“Uh,” Jack says, glancing back at Reinhardt. He looks just as bewildered but then Jack catches Ana’s quick but subtle shake of her head. “Yeah, aside from her,” he says. He can’t remember if he even knew Gérard had been married. 

Gérard visibly relaxes. “Well,” he says, tapping one finger against his chin as he makes a performance of thinking. “In that case, only one name comes to mind for this area.” He holds out his other hand and Reinhardt deposits a small pad of paper and a pen into it. Jack hadn’t even seen him move to get them. “Harold Winston Jr. is your man,” Gérard goes on as he starts jotting down notes. “Very smart fellow, indeed. I was at school with him, the sharpest person in our class. Aside from yours truly, of course.”

“Weren’t you also in the same class as Amélie?” Ana asks from behind her teacup as she shoots Gérard a sly look.

“Yes, yes, and aside from her, I suppose,” Gérard says with ill grace. He waves a hand. “But anyway, back to the point. Winston insists on wasting himself in family law for reasons beyond my comprehension. He could do so much better for himself, there is no glory to be had there. And yet he won’t budge.”

“Perhaps he likes helping families,” Reinhardt says with an amused glint in his eye. Jack’s glad at least he and Ana find this entertaining. 

“Unimaginable,” Gérard huffs. “It’s all tiffs and squabbles, not an ounce of the excitement criminal cases can offer.” Jack rolls his eyes and Reinhardt laughs, but Gérard must have missed it because he lets it pass without comment. But then he pauses halfway through scribbling out a phone number. “One moment,” he says, straightening in his seat and squinting at Jack. “If I may be so bold, why do you of all people need a family lawyer?”

“Oh,” Jack says, “um.” He looks to his unhelpful support but both Reinhardt and Ana are grinning at him. No other way out of this corner now. “Well, I sort of, uh…have custody of a kid?” Gérard blinks at him. Then he blinks at Ana, who chuckles, before returning to stare at Jack. Jack frowns back. “What?”

“You,” Gérard says and points at Jack with his pen. “Have a child?”

Jack hunches his shoulders and does his best to keep from sounding defensive. “What about it?” 

“I need a moment to digest this,” Gérard says and Jack glares at him. “You, Jack Morrison—”

“It’s not out of the blue, okay?” Jack snaps. “It’s my goddaughter, and she needed…” He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. It pushes his glasses down so the table and its occupants become a giant blur and Jack thinks it’s an improvement. “She needed a place to go, and I couldn’t just…I had to…”

“Say no more,” Gérard says. His tone is startlingly gentle. There’s a papery rustle that comes towards Jack so he shoves his glasses back in place. Gérard is drawing his hand back, his note now sitting in front of Jack. _Harold Winston Jr._ is scrawled across the top, followed by a phone number, email, and an address in Gérard’s strangely elegant chicken scratch. Gérard caps the pen with a flourish and hands it back to Reinhardt, all-business again in an instant. “Winston is your best choice, I’d stake my word on it. If there is any chance for your case on this green earth, he will win it for you.” 

“Thanks,” Jack says, quiet as a breath. Gérard gives him the barest of nods and drops the subject at once. He makes idle chatter with Ana and Reinhardt, the three of them allowing Jack to sit undisturbed for once in their lives, before Gérard makes a show of checking his fancy watch. 

“Well, would you look at the time,” he says. He stands and extracts handshakes around the table, his hand comically swallowed by Reinhardt’s enthusiastic grip, and gives them all a jaunty wave. “So good of you to have me, we must do this again. Jack, wonderful to see you, please stop being a recluse.”

“He is making leaps and bounds,” Reinhardt laughs and shows Gérard to the door before Jack can say anything in response. 

Jack shakes his head but lets it go, the two of them already out of the kitchen. Then he frowns, thoughts catching on something that’s been bothering him about the exchange. He fiddles with the edge of Gérard’s note and turns to Ana. “No glory in family law, huh?”

“That is his opinion, it would seem,” she says, mouth twitching. 

“I thought he said that’s what his ex does?”

Ana inclines her head as a little grin breaks across her face. “I didn’t know her well. They split long before either became established in their careers. But theirs was what you would call an…exciting relationship.”

Jack snorts. “With that guy? Can’t imagine.” He tucks the note safely into a pocket and checks his phone. “Well, I guess I need to head out too. Gotta get Hana from school.”

“Tell her hello for me, would you?” Ana asks as she stands and gives him a hug. “And thank you for not fleeing the scene the minute you saw we had company.”

“Reinhardt would have rugby tackled me,” Jack sighs, trying to sound put upon. “I decided not to risk life and limb.”

Ana chuckles. “Well, it wasn’t so bad, was it? And see, he was even helpful.”

“I’ll give you the helpful part,” Jack says, exaggerating the grumble in his tone. Ana laughs and gives him a playful punch to the arm as he heads out.

He gets to Hana’s school a little early so it puts the car in park and leans back to wait. The idea of a nap is tempting but wishful thinking; he doesn’t have that much time. He pulls his phone out instead. 

He thinks about texting Damian. Jack’s been letting this custody thing get to him, hasn’t been reaching out much. He should make the effort. Damian has been nothing but patient with him and he should try to step up. Besides, he has the weekend off for once. And even if he gets a lawyer right away, he doubts they’ll have a meeting that soon. It might be a good time to schedule a third date. 

Jack bites his lip, finger hovering over the keypad. He has no idea what to say, what to suggest. He’s still not used to dating, at least not openly and in a place that requires actually going out. But he needs to do something. So he sends a hello text and hopes that will serve as an opening. 

Then an email alert pops up and Jack finds himself relaxing as he opens it. Sure enough, it’s another reply.

> From: elsegador@flordelamuerte.com  
>  To: soldier76@gmail.com  
>  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Advice needed
> 
> Seriously? What are the fucking odds? Ridiculous.
> 
> I’d recommend Harold Winston Jr. He’s the best in the area by far. A little scattered at times, but he’ll do right by you. And more importantly, by your kid. He does a ton of pro bono work and works all hours. It might seem like he’s too busy for you, but he’s not. It’s just the way he comes off. He’ll go above and beyond.
> 
> If he doesn’t work out, then let me know. I’ve got some other names, but they aren’t as good.

Jack laughs. He feels like a huge weight lifts off his chest, to have a name recommended by two separate sources. He tries to think back to his little list of lawyers in his price range, and he’s pretty sure the name does sound familiar. Maybe this will work out after all.

Movement out the window catches his eye and Jack picks his head up to see Hana walking across the lot, deep in conversation with Efi. He squints, taking a closer look. Hana looks tired, dark circles under her eyes. Has she not been sleeping? Maybe he should ask Reinhardt. This is another reason he’s starting to hate the night shift. 

Then again, he can’t blame her. This case has all of them tied up in knots. And Jack gets the sense it’s going to be a long one, which won’t help anything. And then there’s what Dr. Etienam said, about Hana still processing her grief. No wonder she’s tired.

He’s been making plans with Reinhardt about what types of self-defense to start teaching her. But maybe a nap will do her better today. 

Hana tugs open the passenger side door and just about falls into the seat. Jack hovers a hand over the keys and sends a pointed look at the seat belt, only starting the car once she’s buckled in. 

"Hey,” he says, giving her shoulder a gentle poke before putting the car in gear. “Good news. I’ve got the name of a good lawyer to call. We should be able to make sense of this whole thing soon if he’s got room for us.”

“Really?” Hana asks, rolling her head to meet his gaze without lifting it. “Where’d you find him?”

“Got his name from a few friends,” he hedges. “Good sources.”

“Nice,” Hana says, leaning back against the seat and closing her eyes. She doesn’t even rib him about having friends. Jack frowns a little.

“Tired, huh?” he asks as he pulls out onto the street.

Hana performs a shrug with the barest movements of her shoulders. “I guess.” 

Jack tries again. “Got a lot of homework tonight?”

“No,” Hana says over a yawn. “Me and Efi finished it all. We ended up not having to dress for gym today. Something with the floor.” 

“Ah,” Jack says, fresh out of material. He gives her one more concerned look, not liking the absence of color in her cheeks, but lets her be for the rest of the ride. He rouses her when he parks the car in the driveway and herds her up the outer staircase. Once they get in, Jack tugs her backpack off her shoulder and steers her straight toward her bedroom. “Take a nap, okay? I’ll get you up for dinner.”

Hana gives him a small smile and goes in, face planting onto the bed. Jack pulls the door shut behind her and sets her bag down in the hall, doing his best to make his movements quiet as he heads back to his computer. He wakes it and plugs in the name and info from Gérard’s note, just to confirm who he’s going to be calling. 

Jack sits down heavily, skimming over a few more reviews for Winston and finding nothing objectionable. He checks the blogger’s last email again, just to make sure it’s the same guy, and nods to himself. This is it, then. His best shot at proving Soo-Jung wrong. At keeping Hana. 

Jack punches Winston’s phone number into his dial pad. He hovers his thumb over the call button and takes a series of deep breaths, trying to steel himself. 

He takes a glance back towards Hana’s bedroom and starts the call.

\--

Gabe pulls into the drive and looks around for the jeep on autopilot, before the fact that it’s Friday sinks into his tired brain. Genji is rarely around on Friday nights. In fact, Genji likely won’t be around this entire weekend if it is the one he’s spending in the mountains with Zenyatta. Gabe’s having trouble sorting his days out at the moment, but now that he thinks about it he’s almost certain he won’t be seeing either of them until Tuesday at the earliest.

Zenyatta had extended his usual invitation to both Gabe and Sombra as well. Gabe shuts the station wagon off and chuckles to himself as he imagines Sombra camping. He likes it just fine himself, but Gabe’s never understood the draw of meditation. And the one thing he knows their trips involve is a lot of is meditation. 

Besides, these weekends away give Genji and Zenyatta some space and time together without all the distractions of home. Genji for one always comes back calmer and more focused. Gabe’s not going to do anything to interfere with that. He has too many vivid memories of how angry and destructive he’d been at eleven years old, and Genji’s gotten stronger and faster since then. Gabe does not want to see the sixteen year old version. 

He pulls open the backdoor as he thinks through what he has stocked for food in the house. Cooking does not sound appealing on the heels of what ended up being a hectic week. And with just the two of them home, maybe he can cave and order take-out. Gabe snorts as he dumps his bag in his office. So long as Sombra doesn’t pick pizza. Again. Maybe he’ll hide that menu when he asks.

Then he’s going to bed and hoping for sleep tonight. His vision is starting to blur around the edges with exhaustion.

Peacekeeper wags his tail half-heartedly in greeting from his spot sprawled on the kitchen floor. Even he looks tired. Genji must have dropped by for a run before he’d left. Gabe leans down to give him a pat as he checks the living room. It’s quiet and empty, but the house lights are on and he can hear noises filtering from upstairs so he knows Sombra’s home. 

Halfway up the stairs, his guess is confirmed. A loud bang echoes from the second floor, followed by high pitched yowls and squeaks that are peppered with Spanish curses. Gabe takes the rest of the stairs two at a time and arrives at Sombra’s open bedroom door. He makes sure to knock on the frame before he steps in to assess the situation. 

Haku is perched at the top of the cat tower by the window, chittering away. Reaper twists in Sombra’s arms as she struggles to contain him, making his displeasure well heard. There are a few textbooks on the floor, looking like they’d fallen from Sombra’s desk. Gabe would guess they’d been knocked off during playtime, and that the animals didn’t appreciate the surprise. 

But as chaotic as the scene of angry pets and the swearing teenager trying to separate them is, none of that is what catches Gabe’s eye. 

Sombra’s computer is upended, screen face up, on the bed. She must have tossed it aside when she jumped to intervene in the animal war. The screen displayed looks like Gabe’s vague memories of military reports and records. And he definitely recognizes the picture at the top that stares back at him, unblinking and unrelenting.

It stops him cold. All thoughts of dinner die, replaced by much more heinous things, at the sight of that screen.

“What the fuck?” Gabe’s voice is a growl, words scraping through the sudden gravel that fills his throat. He has a distant thought that he should modulate it, control himself. But his rationality is being overrun, buried in the horrible emptiness that feels like it’s expanding to fill his chest. 

It’s him. His old Army ID photo, hair longer than regulation length and eyes haunted. He forces himself to take a step towards the laptop, feet heavy like they’re sinking into the floorboards. Where did she find this? Is it his redacted record? That would be one thing, but if she really did hack the damn Pentagon to find his uncensored one…

Gabe forces air into lungs that won’t cooperate. Then he’ll have far bigger problems. 

Sombra drops Reaper at once and dives for her computer, beating him to it. She snaps the lid shut and hugs it to her chest, sudden fury on her face a match for the fire building in Gabe’s gut. “What the hell, Gabe? What happened to knocking?”

“I did knock,” Gabe says, the words falling like a death knell. “That is not the issue. What the hell have you been doing?” He sees movement out of the corner of his eye and snaps an arm out, grabbing Haku before Reaper can take advantage of their inattention to pounce again. He holds the ferret, forcing his hands to be gentle, without breaking eye contact with Sombra. The last thing he needs is a vet visit on top of everything else today.

“Knocking is the issue!” Sombra spits back. She snatches up the kitten again before he can make another move, sliding him behind the laptop she holds almost like a shield over them both as he mews. “I thought you told me this is my space.”

Gabe hears his voice go low and cold and makes no attempt to stop it. “The door was wide open and I knocked on the frame. That’s not the issue.” He takes a breath, holding on to his temper by his fingernails, and asks again, “What are you doing?”

“That is none of your business,” Sombra says, doing a poor imitation of haughty confidence. 

“My service record is my goddamn business,” Gabe snarls, jabbing a finger at her laptop with his free hand. Sombra flinches back a step. She tries to mask it with Reaper’s struggles as he squirms between her and the laptop, but Gabe can see it for what it is even through his anger. He tries one more time, keeping his voice steady. “What are you doing and why?”

He stares her down but she matches his glare and refuses to answer him.

Gabe is not playing this game. “All right. Fine. I want that computer shut down and handed over. You can have it back when you can be trusted with it.”

“What?” Sombra shouts, mouth dropping open in disbelief. She hugs it tighter to her chest and Reaper lets out a squawk.

Gabe keeps a careful handle on his tone, not letting it rise in response. It’s still icy when he continues. “I’m serious. Shut it down. I’m putting Haku away before we get bloodshed in this house. When I get back, it had better be off.” Gabe pivots and strides from the room without waiting for further protest, at the very ends of his self-control. He needs a minute and he knows it. He needs to make sure he won’t do or say anything he’ll regret later on. Like break that fucking laptop the second she hands it to him.

His hold on his temper is tenuous at the best of times. It’s at its best with the kids; he doesn’t give a single fuck about pissing off adults. But this is a pretty hefty test of his control. This one hurts.

He knows Sombra is curious about him. And maybe it was naïve of him to hope, but he’d thought she would ask him. Or even those around him. He thought she respected him enough not to go digging where she shouldn’t. Apparently he was very wrong.

Gabe yanks open the door to Haku’s cage but makes himself guide the resisting ferret inside with far more gentleness. Haku does not deserve his anger. Gabe shuts him inside and leans against Jesse’s dresser, working through a series of breathing exercises he’s picked up from Zenyatta despite his reluctance to learn. He needs to get himself under control and keep everything—the fury that tightens his chest, the deep-seated fire that burns his guts and makes him feel strangely cold at the same time, even the thunder in his voice—in check. If not, Sombra will end up running. She’ll decide he’s a risk not worth taking after all and will be gone before he can say anything.

He’s mad as hell and doesn’t trust her right now. But her gone or back on the streets is the last thing he wants, no matter what she does.

Gabe clenches his jaw and tries to keep breathing in the pattern. His fucking service record of all things. None of the kids need to know the dark details of his past. They don’t need to know about the black ops, about the assassinations. They don’t need to know what he did on the government’s say so, with no explanations, for years. That he followed orders that make him sick to think about now, even after he stopped trusting the brass above them. Sure, he asked questions and demanded answers when he could. Information was the team’s best chance at staying alive, however much good it did them. But it still boiled down to kill this person, destroy this building, do this because we say so. He’s never wanted anyone to know those details.

He wishes he could forget them himself.

Especially that last mission. The searing, crackling heat as the building burned. The screams of his teammates that he can’t unhear. There’s no reason the kids need to know that the few people left alive from his squad think it was all his fault. That he double crossed them, that he set it up. That he was the traitor in their ranks. Gabe can feel his teeth grinding together. As if he’d be that bitter, be driven to that depth, just because the brass had yanked command from him. Had put the fucking golden boy in charge of that op in his place.

Yet he’s still the one that took the fall for the entire fiasco.

He tries to force down the memories, to swallow the bitter taste they leave on his tongue. To focus on the faint positives. He’s not rotting in jail right now. However hard the brass had tried to frame him, it hadn’t stuck. Not officially. The best they could do was slap him with a general discharge, manipulating him into signing it ‘freely’ while he wallowed in a hospital bed. Covered in burns, too far gone to fight the order, feeling like the world was ending. But it could have been worse. 

He forces himself to look around the room and think of Jesse, of Genji. Even Sombra, mad as he is. It could have been so much worse. 

But that’s all in the past. And the kids do not need to carry the weight of it along with him. 

If Sombra only got as far as his censored record, then she still shouldn’t know. She might know he was discharged for behavioral issues or some such bullshit, but she won’t have the cause. Or any of the truth to what he did during his time in the Army. He makes it a point not to lie to the kids, but this might have to be the exception. Classified or not, she’s not getting the details. 

Gabe keeps breathing, running his fingers across the gouges Genji’d put in the dresser’s surface to ground himself. If feels like dumping a glass of water on a house fire. He can still hear Medina’s last scream before being silenced forever. Can see Sanchez stretched out before him, dying slowly while Gabe himself was trapped just out of reach. But the images, along with many others that still haunt his dreams, do recede. They’re replaced with Haku’s irritated chitters, the cool breeze sighing in from the half-open window. He can feel the hard knobs of the drawer pulls jabbing him in the back and knows he’s as centered as he’s going to get. 

He’ll deal with Sombra’s curiosity another day, when he can determine what he’s capable of telling her both legally and emotionally. Now, he needs to walk the fine line of handling her punishment without giving back over to his anger and scaring her off. He keeps his breathing even, tackles the monumental effort of controlling his expression, and strides back down the hall to Sombra’s room. He’s sure he looks like the devil incarnate, still too upset to care, but he feels more ready to be the adult in the conversation. 

But what little calm he’s achieved evaporates when he enters the room. It looks the same as it had a few minutes ago, bedcovers rumpled and textbooks scattered on the floor. Reaper now sits in the middle of the bed, blinking slowly at the window. Sombra’s laptop is nowhere to be seen.

And neither is she.

Cold dread rises like a wave and engulfs his every other feeling. He marches to her closet, looking for the packed bag he knows she’s kept ready since the day he brought the starving pre-teen home for a hot meal. It’s gone, too.

“Fuck,” Gabe breathes. He rushes downstairs and out the front door. Peacekeeper scrambles to his feet to give chase but Gabe shuts the door before the dog can follow. He checks both directions but sees no sign of Sombra either way. The street is empty of people in the gathering dusk, falling all the quicker for the storm clouds rolling in.

Gabe hurries back inside, a new weight like lead in his stomach. He grabs his car keys and forces himself to think. Where would she go? He can remember, clear as day, the street where he found her and its dingy internet café. It might not hurt to check, but he doubts she would go back there. With Genji and Zenyatta out of town, she likely won’t go to them either. Maybe UCLA? 

Gabe stops himself with a hand on the back door. He closes his eyes a takes a long, slow breath. He’s being an idiot. If she really means to leave for good, she won’t go to Jesse. She’ll become a ghost and just disappear. He knows she’s resourceful enough to do it. 

Reaper jumps up onto the counter beside him and headbutts his arm. Gabe watches him rub against it and tries to take heart from his presence. She didn’t take the kitten. And, glancing around, he can see what little of value he does have around the house isn’t missing either. Maybe she does mean to come back. Maybe she ran on instinct and will change her mind. 

Gabe forces more air into lungs that feel like rocks and steps away from the door. If she does, it won’t help her to come home to an empty house while Gabe’s out chasing false leads. He wants nothing more than to be out there actively searching for her, but the last thing he wants is to make her feel abandoned on top of everything. She might decide to run for real.

If she hasn’t already.

Gabe makes sure the ringer on his phone is at full volume, so there’s no way he’ll miss any sign from it. He refrains from calling anyone. There’s nothing Genji and Zenyatta can do from the mountains, and he doesn’t want to worry Jesse pre-emptively. If Sombra shows up there, Jesse will call. He’s not sure who else Sombra would even go to. He’s hoping he gets the chance to find out.

He goes back to the front porch. Takes a seat on the hard concrete steps. He makes sure he has a good view inside the front windows, that he can hear most noises from the interior through the screens, in case she comes in the back. Then he settles down to watch the street.

If she doesn’t come back by morning, Gabe will call everyone and start a search. Until then, he’s going to wait and watch. No matter how hard it is to stay still.

\--

Sombra stands stock still in the middle of the room. Reaper still squirms in her arms and whines in her ear when he fails to escape her iron grip but she still doesn’t move. She watches the hall, waiting until Gabe disappears into Jesse’s room. Until the echoes of his stomping footsteps die away.

Then she moves. She extracts Reaper and sets him gently on the bed. Darts to the closet and grabs her old backpack from its ready spot, stuffing her laptop and its charger inside. She’s at the window before she can think, easing it open so it doesn’t squeak. She has one leg over the sill when she pauses, glances back to make sure Gabe’s not on her tail. 

The hall is empty and quiet. The only living thing she can see is Reaper. He sits where she dropped him on the mussed up covers, head tilted to one side as he watches her. She hesitates, poised over the threshold, staring back. 

Her stomach churns and she feels a little sick. Sombra tells herself it’s the second story heights and hops out onto the sloped roof. She’s careful to close the window behind her. The last thing she wants is for Reaper to take inspiration and try his own escape. She bites her lip but doesn’t turn back. A kitten belongs in a house, not on the run. She has to leave him. 

She shimmies to the ground and keeps low as she hits the street. The old habits are familiar even though it’s been well over a year since she’d last had to make a break for it. But she can’t get Gabe’s face out of her mind. His expression when he’d seen her laptop, full of something cold and bone-deep angry that had sparked terror through her every nerve despite her best attempts to push it down. 

She can still feel it, echoes of the instinctive fear spurring her steps. It pisses her off.

She was close. Sombra clenches her fists and darts across the street to weave her way towards the bus stop. She huddles behind it, checking both for the bus down the street and over her shoulder, as the first rumblings of thunder tease her ears. She was so _close_.

She had a great lead. A real chance to dig into the truth of Gabe’s past, the story she sees only fragments of in his unconscious actions and habits. A shot at the core of who he is, whether he’s really different from everyone she’s made the mistake of trusting before. Or if he just seems like it on the surface.

The bus comes into sight and Sombra steps up. The screech of its brakes grates on her ears and makes her think Gabe will surely hear it, even from the house, and know it’s her. She checks one more time: still nothing and no one behind her. She’s relieved, and yet…something like disappointment taints the feeling. She shakes it off and hops on, making a beeline for the back and curling up tight in the hard corner seat.

So Gabe really is just like all the others. She knows that if she’d handed her computer over to him, she’d never see it again. That’s how it works. Poke the nice façade hard enough, you find the real people underneath. People that know once they can stop pretending, they can start demanding. No more playing nice, no more acting like she’s really wanted. That’s when she finds out what they want from her instead. What they require as payment for their ‘kindness’.

A sharp rapping right next to her ear makes her almost jump out of her skin. But it’s just the rain, she realizes. Coming down in a sharp and sudden downpour, rattling against the bus window. “Suits the mood,” she murmurs sourly. She peers through the curtain of water and, sure enough, the bus starts to slow as it pulls into the depot. 

Sombra grabs her bag and thinks about the raincoat that’s still hanging on the back of her door. No, not her door any longer. And not her raincoat either. She scrunches her nose with a bitter huff. It’s just Gabe’s house now, Gabe’s things. It’s not hers. 

She wishes she’d planned better. Sombra steps into the downpour anyway, makes a run for the nearest overhang. She should have been more careful about her investigation. But the year in Gabe’s house made her complacent, more than she’s ever allowed herself before. Soft. She let her guard down. She huddles under the tiny awning, shaking water from her hair. Now look at her. 

Maybe she should have left a long time ago. Should never have let herself start believing that Gabe, that Jesse, Genji, and everyone else could be different. That they could be…home.

She snorts, starts rummaging through her pockets for her little wallet. Home is for other people.

Besides, she reminds herself, she got what she wanted. She may not know Gabe’s full story, but she found his line. She finally knows how far is too far. 

The memory of Gabe’s face drifts across her mind and she shivers again, wishing it was just the chill from the dampness. He’d looked like something out of a horror story, the shadows of stormy twilight playing across his face and making his expression monstrous. A specter of death. Too far, for sure.

Sombra scans the board that lists long distance bus schedules. The next step is to pick a spot, any spot, and try to land on her feet when she gets there. Las Vegas? It would be child’s play to disappear there. Or maybe north, San Francisco? She thinks about going back south, but that leaves her with an uneasy feeling. Better not risk that. She might still be remembered down there. 

None of the other options stand out, so she decides to pick one at random. She pulls out the cash she keeps on hand and a couple old IDs, trying to decide which is safe enough to use, and steps out from under the awning. The flutter of plastic tumbling out of her hand is almost lost in the rain, but Sombra pauses and looks down. 

Her newest ID card, the one Gabe had gotten her, lies face up on the sidewalk and shimmers in the streetlight. She stares down at it, standing frozen as water drips down her back. She should leave it. Just…right there, on the pavement. Yet another life left behind. 

But her feet won’t move. The rain flattens her hair and starts to saturate her t-shirt. Her bag weighs heavily against her shoulder. 

Another shiver spurs her into movement at last. She kneels down and picks the card up, crouched on the glistening pavement as she holds it up at eye level.

“I’m leaving you,” she tells her picture, the false name listed next to it. “Reyes is no different than anyone else. Time to go.”

The picture is old, her hair still solid black and uncut. It was from early in the year, her cheeks still a little sunken and her eyes ringed in dark smudges that had nothing to do with makeup. She tries to push aside the thought that she looks so different in the mirror now. Healthier, for one. Happier? 

Her gaze slides down to the birthdate listed on the card. November first. She doesn’t know why, but her throat starts to close up. She swallows hard. It’s got to be the rain, the cold. She should pick a damn bus and get on it. Get this over with. 

She sees someone in a uniform coming towards her. It’s too dark to see the badges clearly, whether they’re from the depot or are some kind of police. No matter who it is, she doesn’t want questions. 

She stands. And starts walking. 

She passes the ticket office and keeps going, every inch of her sodden with rainwater. What’s a little more?

She finds herself on a sidewalk, staring up at a cozy little two story house before she knows it. She doesn’t let herself think as she shuffles up the front path, knocks on the door. It feels like she stands on the porch for an eternity, and yet it’s far too sudden when Amélie opens the door. They blink at each other.

“Sombra?” Amélie says. Her hair is down and she looks strangely soft in the warm light from the living room. Sombra opens her mouth but has to shut it hard, her vision going a little blurry. It’s just the rain.

Amélie shakes off her surprise. She’s all business in an instant, snagging Sombra by the shoulder and drawing her inside. She tows her all the way into the bathroom, stripping her dripping backpack from her shoulder and setting it on the black and white tile floor in Sombra’s line of sight. Amélie then opens a cupboard and extracts the softest, fluffiest towel Sombra has ever seen before draping it over Sombra’s head. 

She then leaves the bathroom. Sombra reaches up and twists her fingers into the towel, hugging it close. But she doesn’t move. She doesn’t know what to do now. She doesn’t even really know why she’s here. 

Amélie returns before Sombra can get her brain restarted. She has a silky robe draped over her arm and another stack of towels. She sets them all on the long counter before pointing to the shower. “Warm up, please. You look like death.”

Sombra nods absently. Amélie tilts her head forward to look her in the eye, holds her gaze for a long moment. Sombra has no idea what she’s searching for, whether she finds it. She feels hollow, strange. 

She should be running. 

Amélie then gives her one short nod and says, “There will be coffee when you are done,” and leaves again. 

Sombra stands in the middle of the room, hugging the towel. She looks to her bag. She looks to the little window set high in the wall. She could get through it, she’s done that before. But she goes to the shower instead. 

The warmth of it is overwhelming and Sombra sits under the spray for a long time, until the water starts to cool. She turns it off, in no hurry to revisit the chilly downpour from outside. She checks the contents of her bag, pleased to see the waterproof coating held up and the outside is the only part saturated. Sombra dresses, pausing to run her fingers over the fine material of Amélie’s robe, and then pulls that on overtop.

She takes a breath and leaves her bag behind, stepping out into the kitchen to the promised smell of freshly brewed coffee. Amélie sits at the little table beneath a dark window. She has a cup clutched in both hands, elbows propped on the table, and frowns into it. She’s either deep in thought and didn’t hear Sombra enter, or she’s pretending to be oblivious to give her space. There’s a platter of little cookies sitting in the middle of the table and a second cup waiting in front of the empty chair. 

Sombra could still leave. She hesitates in the doorway, really thinks about it. But she walks over and sits in the chair.

Only once she’s settled does Amélie set her cup down and look up. “I called Gabe,” she says. The air leaves Sombra’s lungs in a rush. She opens her mouth, angry words crowding each other out on her tongue but Amélie holds up one hand, palm out. “I told him only that you are somewhere safe. He will not come here tonight. I made sure of it.”

“Why did you have to tell him anything?” Sombra huffs, trying to pretend that her voice doesn’t have a whining edge to it. 

Amélie gives her a particular look, one that invites Sombra to use her brain. She gestures wordlessly to the relentless rain that splatters against the window. 

Sombra scowls. The silk of the robe whispers as she crosses her arms over her chest. “I can take care of myself.”

“Obviously,” Amélie says with a snort. Sombra snaps her head up to glare at her, but finds no trace of mockery in Amélie’s demeanor. “You are here, aren’t you? You have sense.” Amélie tosses her head, long hair coiling around her shoulders as she jerks her chin at the window again. “This is no night to start any kind of journey.”

Sombra sinks back in her chair. She picks up her mug and takes a sip, no response coming to mind. Amélie pushes the plate toward her with one long finger so Sombra picks up a cookie as well. She takes a little bite, but as soon as the confection hits her stomach she’s very suddenly reminded that she’s ravenous. She looks at the clock in surprise. It’s almost midnight. 

Amélie frowns as Sombra’s stomach growls, watching her inhale two more cookies. “Did you get any supper?”

Sombra swallows hard. “No, I—” she says, the crumbs turning to sharp sand in her throat. She takes another gulp of coffee but it does little to help. “I didn’t stay that long,” she says, quieter than she means to. Amélie says nothing else. She stands with her usual grace and goes to her fridge. “You don’t have to—” Sombra starts but the words die at one look from Amélie. She subsides and doesn’t protest once a plate piled with heated leftovers is set before her. 

Amélie lets her eat in peace. Once Sombra’s plate is clean, she asks, “Would you like to tell me what happened?”

“No,” Sombra says. Her voice is sharp and she almost regrets it. 

But Amélie just says, “Very well.” Sombra blinks at her and she gives an easy shrug. “That is that, no? But tell me one thing.” She leans forward in her chair, fixing Sombra with a very serious look. “Did he hurt you?”

Sombra shakes her head. “No.”

“Good,” Amélie says, relaxing again. “Then it would seem it is not my business. If you want to tell me, that is your choice alone. Now,” she says and stands once more, “come.”

Sombra gets to her feet, stumbling a little. She feels better than she expected with a full stomach, but she’s a little shaky. The adrenaline is fading and she wants nothing more than to sit down and never move again, but she follows Amélie up the stairs anyway. They arrive at a neat little room with a soft bed and Amélie gestures to it.

“Yours, for as long as you need it,” she says, stepping aside to let Sombra enter the room. She does not come in after her. “Get some sleep, chérie. Make your decisions in the morning, when you are rested. Nothing good comes of anything rushed.”

Sombra narrows her eyes. “And if I decide to leave?”

Amélie shrugs. “I might ask why, but I am not going to stop you. It is your life.”

Sombra turns back to the bed and bites her lip. There’s a soft whisper from the door and when she looks back, Amélie is gone. 

Sombra’s limbs feel like they’re filled with lead. She sinks onto the bed before she can stop herself and stares at the empty door. She needs to stay alert, to plan her next move. To think everything through. But her brain feels like it’s working half-speed, her thoughts swimming through molasses. It’s as though her body somehow knows she’s safe before she does. 

She knows she shouldn’t. But she stretches out on the bed and wiggles under the covers anyway. She’s asleep before she can form another thought.

She wakes early, sunlight hitting her eyelids from the wrong angle and painting them red. Sombra stretches and rolls over before she opens her eyes, taking in the room in the fresh morning light. She’s too warm so she throws off the covers, realizes she’s still wearing the borrowed robe on top of her clothes. Sombra huffs and gets up. She’s anxious to check her bag, her few belongings. She listens but the house is quiet, no sounds echoing up from the ground floor. She eases her way down the stairs and darts to the bathroom, but her bag is still there. Everything as she left it, and the bag itself is even dry. 

Sombra nods to herself and hefts it, taking it into the empty kitchen. She sets it by the back door and forces herself to stop, to finish waking up so she can think. Her gaze falls on Amélie’s coffee maker and she chuckles a little. A container of grounds and a filter sits ready next to it, a clear invitation. Sombra wonders if it’s worth the risk of waking Amélie with the smell, but the temptation is too strong. Before long she has a steaming mug in her hands and she curls up in her chair from last night, inhaling the fragrance. 

She can see the garden that fills Amélie’s back yard in the clear morning light. It’s not much to look at this late in the season, but the early rays catch the rainwater that coats the remaining plants and sets everything sparkling. It adds light to the elegant little kitchen, all of it a reflection of Amélie’s personality. Sombra sighs to herself. She really will miss Amélie if she leaves. 

The thought breaks the rest of her morning fog as she almost chokes on a sip. If? Since when did leaving become an if? It’s the next step in the cycle. Find the boundaries, push too far, take as much of the punishment as she has to before she can find an out, start over. 

She tries to picture Gabe’s haunting expression, the menace in his body language, as he confronted her last night. Tries to remember her fear, her instinctive drive to run. Bridge burned. Gabe’s true limit revealed. 

But Amélie’s question surfaces over her memories and Sombra bites her lip. Gabe hadn’t hurt her, no. In fact, he’d left the room. At the time, she’d taken it for a lucky opportunity—she didn’t often get that chance when she’d had to run before—but now she thinks about it. Tries to understand it.

Would he have hurt her? Others she’d made the mistake of trusting before would, had certainly tried. But Gabe? She sinks a little more into her chair, clutching her mug. He hadn’t. He’d ensured he wouldn’t, removing himself from the situation. 

She tries to remember what little she’d found so far about his background. Army for sure, clues that indicate clandestine work. Maybe even something like black ops? Either way, a man who knows exactly what he’s capable of. More than anyone she’s met before, outside of those idiotas down in Mexico that fancied themselves militants. 

And then he shows restraint. Sombra frowns into her coffee. He might have just been taking care of himself, making sure he couldn’t be accused of anything in the future. But she can’t shake the feeling that her angle is wrong. She hates being wrong.

Was he really taking care of her, even then? Sombra sets her cup down and tilts sideways, hooking one finger around the strap to her bag. She draws it over and pulls out the ID card, still new and shiny from its fresh printing earlier this month. She runs a finger over the birthdate. 

She remembers the moment he handed it to her. She felt like he got it. Maybe not everything about her, but this detail? This matters, and he understood that.

She sets the card down and goes back to staring out the window, letting her thoughts turn over. Gabe is dangerous, that much she already knew. Now she’s confirmed it, and she knows his buttons. Where his line in the sand falls. There’s a weird feeling, almost but not quite like relief, that settles into her at the thought. She still wants to know his story. But she feels like she has a better sense of who he is. 

Maybe he really is different than everyone before him. Sombra bites her lip. She looks down at her bag and feels the choice weigh on her again, but it feels…distant. Not as heavy, like she’s already decided. And maybe she had, in the moment she turned toward Amélie’s door instead of the bus. 

She takes a breath. It would mean going back there, facing Gabe again. But maybe that’s what she needs, to see how he reacts now. The final test.

It’s not like she can’t just leave again. Going back doesn’t have to be permanent. She can always run if he does end up following the pattern, if going back gives him the opportunity to lash out that she denied him before. It might be harder next time, but she can make it work. She’s always been able to before.

Sombra sets her cup down and stands, turning to find Amélie leaning on the doorframe. She tries to swallow her surprise, pretend like she’d known Amélie’s standing there. Sombra lifts her chin up and greets her with a cheeky grin. “Hey.”

“Bonjour,” Amélie says, face unreadable. She tilts her head. “So. Have you decided?”

“Si,” Sombra says. She steels her shoulders and tries to look confident. “Mind giving me a ride? I’d like to go—” she has to pause, swallow quickly—”home.”

The change in Amélie’s demeanor is instantaneous. She relaxes like she’s letting out a breath she’s been holding, a little light coming into her eyes. “It would be my pleasure.”

The trip is quick and Amélie pulls up against the curb outside the house before Sombra quite feels ready. She makes a move for the door handle anyway but Amélie stops her, laying one hand on Sombra’s arm. Sombra looks up and finds herself fixed in a serious gaze.

“Would you like me to come?” Amélie asks. Sombra stares back, giving it some hard thought. She finally shakes her head. Amélie leans back into her seat. “Very well. You know where to find me.”

Sombra gives her a smile, trying to hide the shakiness to it. She levers herself out of the low car, pulling her bag onto her shoulder, and takes a steadying breath with her eyes still on the lawn. 

Then she looks up. 

Gabe sits on the porch steps. He looks like he could have been there all night, though she doubts it. She hopes not. He’s wearing fresh clothes and has a mug clutched in his hands, knuckles white. There’s a heaviness to his eyes, the circles ringing them darker than usual, but his expression is neutral. Nevertheless, she can see little hints anxiousness, residual anger, and something else she can’t pinpoint woven throughout his body language. 

She walks across the lawn without looking back and Gabe stands to meet her. He sends a nod over her shoulder and she hears the engine rumble as Amélie drives away. Sombra reaches the porch and stops in front of Gabe, fixing him with a look that’s part challenge and part question. 

Up close, it’s obvious. Worry is threaded through his stance, the hunch in his shoulders, the flickers of his cheek muscles, and the pinch in his brows. Worry, unwinding slowly and tempered by a faint relief. Something in Sombra’s chest unclenches at the sight.

Gabe doesn’t say anything. But he steps to one side, twisting his shoulders to allow her entry to the house. It’s an invitation. Sombra meets his eyes and walks past him onto the porch. 

She thinks she made the right decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so neither of us have slept in like 10 days and it took all of our collective comprehension to just get this out, but we want to say again thank you so much for all of your awesome support! we appreciate it so much, seriously.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblrs:[El](http://eledhiel13.tumblr.com/) & [Nari](https://rochnariel.tumblr.com/)


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